LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 

Class 

1 

WORKS   BY   JAMES    SULLY. 


OUTLINES  OF  PSYCHOLOGY,  with  Special  Refer- 
ence to  the  Theory  of  Education.  A  Text-Book  for 
Colleges.     Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  $3.00. 

TEACHER'S    HAND-BOOK    OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

On  the  Basis  of  "  Outlines  of  Psychology."  Abridged 
by  the  author  for  the  use  of  Teachers,  Schools,  Reading- 
Circles,  and  Students  generally.  i2mo.  445  pages. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

ILLUSIONS:  A  Psychological  Study.  i2mo.  372 
pages.     Cloth,  $1.50, 

PESSIMISM  :  A  History  and  a  Criticism.  Second 
edition.     8vo.     470  pages  and  Index.     Cloth,  $4.00. 

THE  HUMAN  MIND.  A  Text-Book  of  Psychology. 
8vo.     2  vols.     Cloth. 


New  York:    D.    APPLETON   AND  COMPANY,  Publishers. 


TEACHER'S   HAND-BOOK 


OF 


PSYCHOLOGY 


ON  THE  BASIS  OF  THE 
«* OUTLINES  OF   PSYCHOLOGY" 


BY 
JAMES   SULLY,    M.  A.,   LL.  D. 


THIRD  EDITION,   REVISED  AND  ENLARGED 
'   OF  THE 

'UHITBRSITT] 

'•"^NEW  YORK 
D.   APPLETON   AND   COMPANY 

I,    3,   AND   5   BOND   STREET 
1892 


Lb  I  OS  I 
5  872. 


Copyright,  1886, 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


t 


PREFACE  TO   THE   FIRST   EDITION. 


The  present  volume  is  based  on  the  writer's 
larger  work,  "  The  Outlines  of  Psychology."  By 
considerably  reducing  and  simplifying  the  state- 
ment of  scientific  principles  there  presented,  and 
expanding  the  practical  applications  to  the  art 
of  Education,  he  hopes  he  may  have  succeeded  in 
satisfying  an  increasingly  felt  want  among  teachers, 
viz.,  of  an  exposition  of  the  elements  of  Mental 
Science  in  their  bearing  on  the  work  of  train- 
ing and  developing  the  minds  of  the  young. 

Hampstead,  March,  1886. 


AMERICAN   NOTE. 

It  is  proper  to  say  that  the  author  of  this  book  is  paid  a 
copyright  by  contract  on  all  its  sales ;  and  that  the  larger  work, 
the  "  Outlines  of  Psychology,"  was  published  under  the  same  con- 
ditions. Mr.  Sully  also  contributed  a  volume,  several  years  ago, 
on  "  Illusions,"  to  the  International  Scientific  Series,  an  enterprise 
originating  in  our  establishment  for  the  advantage  of  foreign 
authors,  who  are  paid  at  the  same  rates  that  are  customary  with 
American  authors. 

D.  APPLETON  &  CO. 

New  York,  April  21,  1886. 


t^1\  '^ 


PREFACE  TO   THE   THIRD   EDITION. 


In  the  present  edition  the  writer  has  added  an 
Appendix  on  ''  Method  in  Teaching,"  and  a  num- 
ber of  Notes.  He  trusts  that  the  common  and 
reasonable  objection  to  a  multitude  of  Notes  may 
in  this  case  be  counteracted  to  some  extent  by 
their  special  character ;  for  they  are  added  in  the 
hope  that  (unlike  some  Notes)  they  may  enliven 
and  not  deaden  the  text. 

Hampstead,  December,  i88g. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  I. 
PSYCHOLOGY  AND   EDUCATION. 

PAGE 

Art  and  Science i 

Art  and  Science  of  Education 4 

Divisions  of  Educational  Science 8 

Psychology  and  Education 10 

Chapter  II. 

SCOPE  AND  METHOD  OF   PSYCHOLOGY. 

Scientific  Conception  of  Mind 13 

Mind  and  Body 14 

The  Subjective  Method 15 

The  Objective  Method 15 

Both  Methods  must  be  combined 16 

Observation  of  Children's  Minds 17 

General  Knowledge  of  Mind .19 

Chapter  III. 

MIND  AND   BODY. 

Connection  between  Mind  and  Body 2r 

The  Nervous  System 22 

The  Special  Organs  of  Mind 25 

Nature  of  Nervous  Action 26 

Mental  Activity  and  Brain  Efficiency 27 

Brain-Activity  and  Brain-Fatigue 28 

Effects  of  Brain-Activity  on  the  Organism      ......  29 

Overtaxing  the  Brain       .         .                  29 

Remission  and  Variation  of  Brain-Exercise 31 

Differences  of  Brain-Power 32 


vi  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  IV. 
KNOWING,    FEELING,   AND  WILLING. 

PAGE 

Mental  Phenomena  and  Operations 34 

Classification  of  Mental  Operations 34 

Feeling,  Knowing,  and  Willing 35 

Opposition  between  Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing     .         .     ■  .         .36 

Connection  between  Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing     ....  36 

Species  of  Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing  :  Mental  Faculties        .         .  38 

Primary  Intellectual  Functions 38 

Individual  Differences  of  Mental  Capability 39 

Truths  or  Laws  of  Mind 40 

General  Conditions  of  Mental  Activity 41 

Conditions  of  Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing 41 

Importance  of  understanding  the  Conditions  of  Mental  Activity    .        .  42 


Chapter  V. 

MENTAL   DEVELOPMENT. 

Mental  Development  defined 45 

Growth  of  Faculty 47 

Order  of  Development  of  Faculties 47 

Unity  of  Intellectual  Development 48 

Growth  and  Exercise  of  P'aculty 49 

Growth  and  Retentiveness 50 

Growth  and  Habit 50 

Grouping  of  Parts  :  Laws  of  Association 51 

Development  of  Feeling  and  Willing 52 

Interdependence  of  Processes 52 

Growth  and  Development  of  the  Brain 53 

Factors  in  Development 54 

(A)  Internal  Factor 54 

(B)  External  Factor,     (i)  Natural  Environment    ....  55 
(2)  The  Social  Environment 55 

Undesigned  and  Designed  Influence  of  Society 56 

Scheme  of  Development 57 

Varieties  of  Development 57 

Differences  of  Original  Capacity 58 

The  Law  of  Heredity 59 . 

Common  and  Special  Heredity 59 

Varieties  of  External  Influence 60 

The  Teacher  and  the  Social  Environment      .        .        .        .        .        .62 

Training  of  the  Faculties 63 


CONTENTS.  vii 

Chapter  VI. 
ATTENTION. 

PAGS 

Place  of  Attention  in  Mind 66 

Definition  of  Attention 66 

Directions  of  Attention 67 

Effects  of  Attention .        .        .        .68 

Physiology  of  Attention 68 

Extent  of  Attention 69 

On  what  the  Degree  of  Attention  depends 70 

External  and  Internal  Stimuli 70 

Non- Voluntary  and  Voluntary  Attention 70 

Reflex  Attention 71 

Law  of  Contrast  and  Novelty 71 

Interest 72 

Familiarity  and  Interest 73 

Transition  to  Voluntary  Attention  .        .        .         .        .         .        -74 

Function  of  the  Will  in  Attention 74 

Growth  of  Attention  :  Early  Stage 76 

Development  of  Power  of  controlling  the  Attention       ....  76 

Attention  to  the  Unimpressive 77 

Resistance  to  StimuU 78 

Keeping  the  Attention  fixed 78 

Concentration 79 

Concentration  and  Intellectual  Power 79 

Grasp  of  Attention 80 

Habits  of  Attention 81 

Varieties  of  Attentive  Power 81 

Training  of  the  Attention 82 

Chapter  VII. 

THE  SENSES:    SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

Definition  of  Sensation 86 

General  and  Special  Sensibility 87 

Characters  of  Sensations 88 

The  Five  Senses 89 

Taste  and  Smell 89 

Touch 89 

Active  Touch 92 

Muscular  Sense 93 

Hearing 95 

Sight 97 

Attention  to  Sense-Impressions 99 

Discrimination  of  Sensation    . 99 

Identification  of  Sense-Impressions 99 


viii  CONTENTS. 

^  ,        ,  ^  ^  .  PAGB 

Growth  of  Sense-Capacity loo 

Improvement  of  Sense-Discrimination loo 

Differences  of  Sense-Capacity .101 

The  Training  of  the  Senses 102 

Method  of  Training 103 

Training  of  the  Several  Senses 105 

Chapter  VIII. 
THE   SENSES:  OBSERVATION   OF   THINGS. 

Definition  of  Perception 108 

How  Percepts  are  reached 108 

Special  Channels  of  Perception no 

Perceptions  of  Touch iii 

Visual  Perception 113 

Perception  of  Form  by  the  Eye 113 

Perception  of  Distance  and  Solidity 114 

Intuition  of  Things 116 

Perception  of  our  own  Body 117 

Observation 118 

Distinct  and  Accurate  Observation 119 

Development  of  Perceptual  Power 121 

Training  of  the  Observing  Powers 124 

Exercise  in  observing  Form 125 

The  Object-Lesson 127 

Chapter  IX. 
MENTAL    REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

Retention  and  Reproduction 131 

Reproduction  and  Representation 132 

Conditions  of  Reproduction 133 

(A)  Depth  of  Impression :  Attention  and  Retention       .        .        .  134 
Repetition  and  Retention 13S 

(B)  Association  of  Impression 137 

Different  Kinds  of  Association 138 

(I)  Association  by  Contiguity 138 

Strength  of  Associative  Cohesion 140 

On  what  Suggestive  Force  depends 140 

Trains  of  Images 142 

Verbal  Associations <,        .        .        .  143 

(III  Association  by  Similarity i44 

(III)  Association  by  Contrast i45 

Complex  Associations 146 

Co-operation  of  Associations 146 

Obstructive  Associations i47 

Active  Reproduction  :   Recollection i47 


CONTENTS.  ix 

Chapter  X. 
MEMORY  (continued). 

PAGE 

Memory  and  its  Degrees ,        .  150 

Beginnings  and  Growth  of  Memory 151 

Repetition  of  Experience ^5^ 

New  Experiences i53 

How  Memory  Improves i53 

Causes  of  Growth  of  Memory i54 

Varieties  of  Memory,  General  and  Special i5S 

Causes  of  Difference i57 

Training  of  the  Memory •  i59 

(a)  Exercise  in  Acquisition       ........  162 

Learning  by  Heart 165 

Art  of  Mnemonics 167 

(b)  Exercise  in  Recalling 169 

Subjects  which  exercise  the  Memory 170 

Educational  Value  of  Memory .171 

Chapter  XI. 

CONSTRUCTIVE   IMAGINATION. 

Reproductive  and  Constructive  Imagination  ....         o        .  174 

The  Constructive  Process i74 

Various  Forms  of  Construction 176 

(A)  Intellectual  Imagination .176 

(i)  Imagination  and  Acquisition      .         , 176 

Reducing  the  Abstract  to  the  Concrete 177 

(2)  Imagination  and  Discovery        ,.         =         ....  178 

(B)  Practical  Contrivance 178 

(C)  Esthetic  Imagination •  i79 

Risks  of  Uncontrolled  Imagination 180 

Intellectual  Value  of  Imagination 181 

Development  of  Imagination 182 

Germ  of  Imagination 182 

Children's  Fancy 183 

Imagination  brought  under  Control        .......  184 

Later  Growth  of  Imagination                            185 

Varieties  of  Imaginative  Power       .         .         .      •  .         ,         .         .         .  186 

Training  of  the  Imagination 187 

Twofold  Direction  of  Imaginative  Training 187 

(a)  Restraining  Fancy .188 

(b)  Cultivating  the  Imagination 189 

Exercise  of  the  Imagination  in  Teaching 192 

Exercise  of  Invention 19s 


X  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  XII. 
ABSTRACTION    AND   CONCEPTION. 

PAGB 

Apprehension  and  Comprehension 199 

Stages  of  Thinking 200 

The  General  Notion  or  Concept 200 

How  Concepts  are  formed 201 

(A)  Comparison 201 

Conditions  of  Comparison 202 

(B)  Abstraction 20A 

(C)  Generahzation 205 

Conception  and  Naming 205 

Discovering  the  Meaning  of  Words 206 

Degrees  of  Abstraction 207 

MarJcing  off  Single  Qualities 207 

Varieties  of  Concepts 208 

Notions  which  involve  Synthesis 208 

(A)  Ideas  of  Magnitude  and  Number 209 

(B)  Notions  of  Geometry,  etc. 210 

Moral  Ideas  :  Idea  of  Self 211 

Notions  of  Others 212 

Conception  and  Discrimination 213 

Classification 214 

Chapter  XIII. 
ABSTRACTION   AND  CONCEPTION   (continued) 

Imperfection  and  Perfection  of  Notions 216 

Distinctness  of  Concepts 216 

Causes  of  Indistinctness  of  Concepts 217 

Accuracy  of  Concepts 218 

(A)  Inaccurate  Notions  depending  on  Imperfect  Abstraction  .         .  219 

(B)  Inaccurate  Notions  depending  on  Loss  of  Elements          .         .  220 

On  Revising  our  Notions 221 

Relation  of  Conception  to  Imagination 221 

On  Defining  Notions 222 

Growth  of  Conceptual  Power 224 

Early  Notions 224 

Growth  of  Conception  and  of  Discrimination 225 

Formation  of  more  Abstract  Conceptions 226 

Use  of  Adjectives 227 

Period  of  Fuller  Development 228 

How  Progress  in  Conceptual  Power  is  to  be  measured  ....  229 

Varieties  of  Conceptual  Power 229 

Training  the  Power  of  Abstraction 230 

Exercise  in  Classing  Objects 231 

Explaining  Meaning  of  Words 235 


CONTENTS.  xi 

PAGE 

Controlling  the  Child's  Use  of  Words 236 

Order  of  taking  up  Abstract  Studies 237 

Chapter  XIV. 
JUDGING  AND   REASONING. 

Nature  of  Judgment 239 

Relation  of  Concept  to  Judgment 241 

Process  of  Judging 242 

Affirmation  and  Negation 244 

'^Belief  and  Doubt .  245 

Extent  of  Judgment 245 

Perfection  of  Judgments  :  Clearness 246 

Accuracy  of  Judgment 247 

Other  Merits  of  Judgment 248 

Inference  and  Reasoning 249 

Relation  of  Judging  to  Reasoning .251 

Inductive  and  Deductive  Reasoning 252 

(A)  Nature  of  Inductive  Reasoning 252 

Spontaneous  Induction 253 

Regulated  Induction 254 

Induction  and  Causation 254 

Children's  Idea  of  Cause 254 

Natural  Reasoning  about  Causes 255 

Regulated  Reasoning  about  Causes 257 

Chapter  XV. 
JUDGING  AND   REASONING   (continued). 

Deductive  Reasoning 259 

Application  of  Principles  and  Explanations 260 

Regulated  Deduction 261 

Other  Forms  of  Reasoning  :  Analogy 262 

Development  of  Powers  of  Judging  and  Reasoning       ....  263 

Growth  of  Reasoning  Power 266 

First  Reasonings  about  Cause 266 

Varieties  of  Power  of  Judging  and  Reasoning 268 

Training  the  Faculty  of  Judgment .  270 

Training  of  the  Reasoning  Powers 272 

Subjects  which  exercise  the  Reasoning  Faculty 274 

Method  in  Teaching 275 

Chapter  XVI. 
THE   FEELINGS:    NATURE  OF   FEELING. 

Feeling  defined 279 

The  Diffusion  and  Effects  of  Feeling 280 


xii  CONTENTS. 

PAGS 

Pleasure  and  Pain 283 

Effects  of  Pleasure  and  Pain 284 

Monotony  and  Change 285 

Accommodation  to  Surroundings .  286 

Varieties  of  Pleasure  and  Pain 288 

(A)  Sense-Feelings 288 

(B)  The  Emotions 289 

Development  of  Emotion 289 

Association  of  Feeling 291 

Habits  of  Feeling 292 

Order  of  Development  of  the  Emotions 293 

Characteristics  of  Children's  Feedings 294 

The  Education  of  the  Feelings 297 

(a)  Repression  of  Feeling 298 

(b)  Stimulation  of  Emotion 299 

Chapter  XVII. 
THE   EGOISTIC   AND  SOCIAL   FEELINGS. 

(A)  Egoistic  Feelings  :  Fear 303 

Anger,  Antipathy 307 

Love  of  Activity  and  of  Power 311 

Feeling  of  Rivalry 3i5 

Love  of  Approbation  and  Self-Esteem          .....  318 

(B)  Social  Feelings  :  Love  and  Respect 321 

Sympathy 322 

Conditions  of  Sympathy 3^4 

Uses  of  Sympathy 3^5 


Chapter  XVIII. 
THE   HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 

The  Intellectual  Sentiment 329 

Feeling  of  Ignorance  and  Wonder 329 

Pleasure  of  Gaining  Knowledge 33^ 

Children's  Curiosity 332 

Growth  of  Intellectual  Feeling 333 

The  /Esthetic  Sentiment 335 

Elements  of  /Esthetic  Pleasure        .  335 

.Esthetic  Judgment :  Taste 33^ 

Standard  of  Taste <         ...  337 

Growth  of  Esthetic  Faculty 337 

The  Education  of  Taste 34° 

Ethical  or  Moral  Sentiment 344 

Moral  Feeling  and  Moral  Judgment 34^ 

The  Moral  Standard 347 


CONTENTS.  xiii 

PAGE 

Growth  of  the  Moral  Sentiment •        •        •  347 

Development  of  Self-judging  Conscience 350 

The  Training  of  the  Moral  Faculty        .        .        .        .        .        .        .  35X 

Chapter  XIX. 

THE  WILL:  VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

Definition  of  Willing 356 

Willing,  Knowing,  and  Feeling 356 

Desire,  the  Basis  of  Willing 357 

Desire  and  Activity 358 

Desiring  and  Willing 359 

Development  of  Willing 359 

Instinctive  Factor  in  VoUtion 360 

Effects  of  Experience  and  of  Exercise 360 

Beginnings  of  Movement 361 

Transition  to  Voluntary  Movement 362 

Effects  of  Exercise 363 

Imitation 364 

Excitation  of  Movement  by  Command 367 

Internal  Command  of  Movement 368 

Movement  and  Habit 370 

Strength  of  Habit 371 

Fixity  and  Plasticity  of  Movement 372 

Training  of  Will  and  the  Active  Organs 373 

Chapter  XX. 

MORAL  ACTION:  CHARACTER. 

(a)  Influence  of  Growing  Intelligence 378 

(bj  Influence  of  Growth  of  Feeling 379 

Complex  Action 380 

Deliberation  and  Choice 380 

Resolution  and  Perseverance 381 

Self-Control 383 

Stages  of  Self-Control 383 

Control  of  the  Feelings 384 

Control  of  the  Thoughts 385 

Different  Forms  of  Self-Control      .        .                 386 

Habit  and  Conduct 387 

Moral  Habits 388 

Character 389 

External  Control  of  the  Will 390 

Authority  and  Obedience 391 

The  Ends  and  Grounds  of  Early  Discipline 392 

Conditions  of  Moral  Discipline       .        .                394 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Punishment c        .        .        .  395 

Proportioning  of  Punishment 397 

Reward,  Encouragement .  398 

Development  of  Free-will 400 

Discipline  of  the  Home  and  of  the  School 401 

APPENDICES. 

(a)  Periods  of  Development 405 

(b)  Measurement  of  Faculty 409 

(c)  Method  in  Teaching 415 

Notes 423 


TEACHER'S  HANDBOOK 

OF 

PSYCHOLO  G  Y. 


CHAPTER   I. 

PSYCHOLOGY    AND    EDUCATION. 

Art  and  Science. — The  doing  of  anything  presup- 
poses some  knowledge,  for  every  action  is  the  employment 
of  certain  agencies  which  stand  in  the  relation  of  means  to 
our  particular  end  or  object  of  desire  ;  and  we  could  not 
select  and  make  use  of  these  means  unless  we  knew  be- 
forehand that  they  were  fitted  to  bring  about  the  fulfill- 
ment of  our  desire.  This  is  evident  even  in  the  case  of 
simple  actions.  Thus,  if  after  sitting  reading  for  some  time 
and  becoming  cold  I  go  out  and  take  a  brisk  walk,  it  is 
because  I  know  that  by  so  doing  I  am  certain  to  recover 
warmth.  And  it  is  still  more  manifest  in  the  case  of  com- 
plex actions.  The  action  of  an  engineer,  of  a  surgeon,  or 
of  a  statesman,  involves  a  quantity  of  knowledge  of  vari- 
ous kinds. 

The  knowledge  which  is  thus  serviceable  for  doing 
things  or  for  practice  is  of  two  sorts.  Thus,  the  knowl- 
edge implied  in  the  above  example,  that  muscular  exercise 
promotes  bodily  warmth,  may  be  knowledge  that  I  have 
gathered  from  my  own  experience  aided  by  what  others 
have  told  me  ;  or  it  may  have  been  obtained  from  a  study 
of  the  bodily  organism  and  its  functions,  and  of  the  effects 
of  muscular  activity  on  the  circulation,  etc.  The  first  kind 
of  knowledge,  being  derived  from  what  may  be  called  un- 


2  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  EDUCATION. 

revised  experience  and  observation,  is  called  empirical ;  the 
second  kind,  being  the  outcome  of  those  processes  of  re- 
vision and  extension  of  every-day  empirical  knowledge 
which  make  up  the  work  of  science,  is  named  scientific. 

The  chief  differences  between  empirical  and  scientific 
knowledge  are  the  following:  (i)  The  former  is  based  on 
a  narrow  range  of  observation,  and  on  observation  which 
is  apt  to  be  loose  and  inexact ;  the  latter,  on  a  wide  survey 
of  facts  and  on  accurate  processes  of  observation  and  ex- 
periment. (2)  The  former  consists  of  propositions  which 
have  only  a  limited  scope,  and  are  never,  strictly  speaking, 
universally  true  ;  the  latter  is  made  up  of  propositions  of 
wide  comprehensiveness,  and  of  universal  validity,  known 
as  principles  or  laws.  (3)  As  a  result  of  this  the  conclusions 
deduced  from  empirical  knowledge  are  precarious,  whereas 
the  conclusions  properly  drawn  from  scientific  principles 
are  perfectly  trustworthy. 

We  call  any  department  of  practice  an  art  when  the 
actions  involved  are  of  sufficient  complexity  and  difficulty 
to  demand  special  study,  and  to  offer  scope  for  individual 
skill.  Thus,  we  talk  now  of  an  art  of  cooking,  because 
with  our  advanced  civilization  the  preparation  of  food  has 
become  so  elaborate  a  process  as  to  call  for  special  prepa- 
ration or  training. 

Every  art  requires  a  certain  amount  and  variety  of 
knowledge.  In  the  early  stages  of  development  the  vari- 
ous arts  were  carried  on  by  help  of  empirical  knowledge. 
Thus,  in  agriculture  men  sowed  certain  crops  rather  than 
others  in  given  soils,  because  they  and  their  predecessors 
had  found  out  from  experience  that  these  were  the  best 
fitted.  Similarly  in  medicine,  men  resorted  at  first  to  par- 
ticular remedies  in  particular  diseases,  because  their  prac- 
tical experience  had  taught  them  the  utility  of  so  doing. 

Such  guidance  from  empirical  sources  was  found  to  be 
insufficient.  Workers  in  the  various  departments  of  art 
asked  for  a  deeper  knowledge  of  the  agencies  they  em- 


ART  AND   SCIENCE.  3 

ployed  and  the  processes  they  carried  out,  and  so  they 
had  recourse  to  science.  Thus  the  art  of  agriculture  has 
profited  from  the  sciences  of  chemistry  and  botany,  and 
the  art  of  medicine  from  the  sciences  of  anatomy  and 
physiology.  Indeed,  the  demand  for  a  fuller  and  more 
exact  knowledge  on  the  part  of  practical  workers  has  been 
an  important  stimulus  to  the  development  of  the  sciences. 

The  reason  of  this  is  plain  from  what  has  been  said 
above.  The  characteristic  imperfections  of  empirical 
knowledge  become  more  and  more  manifest  as  an  art  de- 
velops. And  these  defects  are  the  more  conspicuous  in 
the  case  of  the  more  complex  arts,  and  particularly  those 
which  have  to  do  with  living  things.  This  is  clearly  illus- 
trated in  the  case  of  medicine.  The  organic  processes 
going  on  in  the  human  body  are  so  numerous  and  compli- 
cated, there  are  so  many  variable  circumstances  which 
help  to  modify  a  disease  in  different  cases,  and  so  to  inter- 
fere with  a  simple  uniform  effect  of  any  given  remedial 
agency,  that  the  generalizations  based  on  practical  experi- 
ence are  continually  proving  themselves  to  be  inadequate 
and  precarious.  The  great  modern  improvements  in  the 
art  of  healing  have  been  the  direct  outcome  of  the  growth 
of  the  sciences  underlying  the  art. 

Hence  we  have  come  to  employ  in  the  case  of  all  the 
more  complex  and  intricate  departments  of  practice  the 
expression  "  science  and  art."  Thus  we  talk  of  the  sci- 
ence and  art  of  engineering,  of  agriculture,  and  even  of 
politics.  To  this  pair  of  correlated  terms  there  corre- 
sponds the  equally  familiar  couple,  "  theory  and  practice." 
For  the  term  theory  in  this  connection  refers  more  par- 
ticularly to  the  principles  or  truths  of  a  scientific  rank 
which  stand  at  the  foundation  of  the  art. 

It  is  important  to  understand  the  precise  place  and 
function  of  these  scientific  principles  in  their  relation  to 
practice.  First  of  all,  then,  they  do  not  take  the  place  of 
empirical  generalizations.     These  are  at  first,  as  already 


4  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  EDUCATION. 

remarked,  the  only  knowledge  by  which  an  art  can  guide 
itself ;  and  they  always  continue  to  form  a  valuable  part 
of  every  theory  of  a  practical  subject.  Science  alone 
would  never  have  taught  men  the  best  way  to  till  the 
ground,  to  obtain  metal  from  the  soil,  or  to  carry  out  any 
other  set  of  industrial  operations.  The  function  of  scien- 
tific principles  is  to  supplement,  interpret,  and,  where 
necessary,  correct  empirical  knowledge.  In  this  way  the 
teaching  of  practical  experience  is  rendered  more  precise 
and  certain. 

But  science  renders  to  art  a  yet  greater  service  than 
this.  It  greatly  enlarges  the  range  of  practical  discovery. 
When  once  we  have  our  scientific  principles  we  can  de- 
duce practical  conclusions  from  these,  and  thus  anticipate 
the  slow  and  uncertain  progress  of  empirical  discovery. 
Thus,  in  the  art  of  surgery,  the  modern  method  of  treating 
wounds  is  largely  the  direct  outcome  of  scientific  reflec- 
tion on  the  nature  of  wounds  and  of  the  natural  process 
of  healing.  Such  deductions  must,  of  course,  be  verified 
by  actual  experiment  before  they  can  take  their  place 
among  the  assured  body  of  knowledge  making  up  the 
theory  of  the  subject.  So  that  here,  too,  the  theory  of  a 
practical  operation  is  constituted  by  two  factors — an  em- 
pirical and  a  scientific.  The  only  difference  between  this 
case  and  the  first  is  that  here  the  work  of  science  precedes 
instead  of  following  the  work  of  experience,  and,  in  place 
of  having  to  supplement  and  interpret  this,  has  to  be  sup- 
plemented and  verified  by  it. 

Art  and  Science  of  Education.— The  above  re 
marks  may  help  us  to  understand  the  fact  that  the  art  oi 
education  is  now  seeking  to  ground  itself  on  scientific 
truths  or  principles. 

As  an  art,  education  aims  at  the  realization  of  a  par* 
ticular  end.  This  end  must,  of  course,  be  assumed  to  be 
clearly  defined  before  we  can  repair  to  science  to  ascertain 
what  agencies  we  can  best  employ  in  order  to  compass  it. 


ART  AND   SCIENCE  OF  EDUCATION.  5 

At  first  sight,  however,  it  might  seem  that  this  condition 
is  not  satisfied.  Writers  have  discussed  at  length  what  the 
true  end  of  education  is,  and  they  have  proposed  very  dif- 
ferent definitions  of  the  matter. 

The  reason  of  this  uncertainty  is  apparent.  Educa- 
tion, unlike  such  an  art  as  cookery,  has  a  large  and  com- 
prehensive object,  viz.,  to  help  to  mold  and  fashion  in  cer- 
tain definite  ways  no  less  complex  a  thing  than  a  human 
being,  with  his  various  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral 
capabilities,  so  as  to  fit  him  to  fulfill  his  highest  function 
and  destiny.  And  to  ascertain  what  the  rightly  fashioned 
man  is  like,  and  wherein  consists  his  true  work  and  serv- 
ice, is  a  problem  of  much  difficulty.  In  truth,  we  can 
only  satisfactorily  settle  this  when  we  have  determined  the 
supreme  ends  of  human  action — in  other  words,  the  highest 
good  of  man.  It  is  the  province  of  the  great  practical 
science  of  ethics  to  ascertain  this  for  us  ;  and  the  teachers 
of  this  science  have  from  ancient  times  been  divided  into 
opposed  schools. 

We  need  not,  however,  wait  for  the  resolution  of  these 
grave  and  difficult  problems.  Men  are  to  a  large  extent 
practically  agreed  as  to  what  is  right  and  wrong,  though 
they  have  not  settled  the  theoretic  basis  of  these  distinc- 
tions. In  like  manner  educators  are  practically  at  one 
as  to  the  objects  they  aim  at.  In  spite  of  ethical  and 
theological  differences,  we  agree  to  say  that  education 
seeks,  by  social  stimulus,  guidance,  and  control,  to  develop 
the  natural  pov/ers  of  the  child,  so  as  to  render  him  able 
and  disposed  to  lead  a  healthy,  happy,  and  morally  worthy 
life. 

This  is  offered  only  as  a  rough  approximation  to  a  definition  which 
naay  be  generally  accepted.  In  filling  out  this  idea,  different  thinkers 
would  no  doubt  diverge  considerably,  according  to  their  conception  of 
man's  nature  and  destiny.  Thus,  to  the  firm  believer  in  the  Christian 
doctrine  of  a  future  life  it  must  appear  of  the  first  consequence  to  de- 
velop those  religious  faculties  and  emotions  the  ex€Ttise  of  which  con- 
stitutes man's  highest  function  and  the  direct  preparation  for  the  larger 


fiHI7EESlf7| 


6  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  EDUCATION. 

and  enduring  after-life.  But,  while  fully  recognizing  the  truth  that 
religious  belief  must  throughout  profoundly  color  a  man's  conception 
of  the  scope  of  education  and  the  relative  value  of  its  several  parts,  one 
may  assume  that  in  practice  educators  of  widely  unlike  theological 
views  agree  as  to  the  main  lines  of  education  in  its  distinctly  human 
aspects. 

A  word  or  two  as  to  the  scope  of  our  definition.  In  the  first  place, 
we  take  education  as  aiming  at  the  formation  of  faculty,  rather  than 
at  the  giving  of  information  or  the  communication  of  knowledge.  In 
other  words,  education,  as  the  etymology  of  the  word  tells  us  (Lat., 
educere),  has  to  do  with  drawing  out,  i.  e.,  developing  the  mind  and  its 
various  activities,  and  not  merely  with  putting  something  into  the  mind. 
This  distinction  is  often  spoken  of  as  that  between  education  and  in- 
struction. But  the  word  instruction  (Lat.,  instruere)  implies  the  orderly 
putting  together  of  the  materials  of  knowledge  so  as  to  form  a  structure. 
And,  taken  in  this  sense,  there  is  no  fundamental  opposition  between 
the  two.  The  faculties  of  the  intelligence  can  only  be  called  forth  and 
strengthened  in  the  processes  of  gaining  knowledge,  and  thus  "  educa- 
tion attains  its  end  through  instruction."  The  teacher  may,  however, 
fix  his  mind  more  on  the  educative  result  of  his  processes,  viz.,  the 
ability  to  observe  and  reason  about  facts  in  the  future,  or  on  the  im- 
mediate gain  of  school  exercises  in  the  shape  of  useful  knowledge.  And 
this  difference  in  the  teacher's  point  of  view  will  deeply  affect  his  ideas 
as  to  proper  subjects  to  be  taught,  and  even  as  to  the  best  method  of 
teaching  them. 

Finally,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  our  definition  does  not  stop  short  at 
the  intellectual  side  of  the  mind,  but  includes  the  other  sides  as  well. 
The  supposition  that  education  is  only  concerned  with  the  intellectual 
faculties  probably  has  its  source  in  the  common  error  that  the  educator 
and  the  schoolmaster  are  synonymous  terms,  whereas  in  reality  the 
latter  is  only  one  among  many  educators.  And  even  the  schoolmaster 
will  err  if  he  thinks  his  business  ends  with  a  mere  intellectual  discipline 
of  his  pupils. 

But,  while  our  definition  is  thus  a  wide  one,  it  is  less  wide  than 
that  of  some  thinkers,  e.  g.,  J.  S.  Mill,  who  included  under  education 
the  influence  of  external  circumstances  generally.  Education  is  to  us 
essentially  the  action  of  other  human  beings  on  the  child,  and  this  only 
so  far  as  it  is  conscious  and  designed.  Moreover,  in  its  higher  forms, 
education  implies  a  systematic  application  of  external  forces  and  agen- 
cies according  to  a  definite  plan  and  an  orderly  method.* 

*  On  the  relation  of  instruction  to  education,  see  Prof.  Payne's 
"  Lectures  on  the  Science  and  Art  of  Education,"  Lecture  I,  p.  i8,  etc. ; 


ART  AND  SCIENCE  OF  EDUCATION.  7 

As  soon  as  we  approximate  to  a  definition  of  educa- 
tion, as  in  the  above,  we  see  that  merely  empirical  knowl- 
edge will  carry  us  but  a  little  way  in  realizing  our  object. 
For  the  human  nature  which  it  is  our  special  business  to 
develop  is  plainly  the  most  complex  of  all  living  things. 
It  is  at  once  something  material  and  something  mental ; 
and  this  mental  part,  again,  is  exceedingly  composite  in  its 
constitution,  being  made  up  of  a  number  of  intellectual 
and  moral  capabilities  and  dispositions.  Nor  is  this  all  ; 
we  find  that  these  several  physical  aad  mental  powers  are 
joined  together  and  interact  upon  one  another  in  a  very 
intricate  and  puzzling  manner.  Closely  connected  with 
this  peculiar  complexity  of  the  child's  nature,  we  have  its 
great  variability,  showing  itself  in  the  unique  constitution 
or  idiosyncrasy  of  each  individual  child.  Owing  to  these 
circumstances,  mere  experience  could  never  have  led  men 
far  on  the  right  educational  path.  And  as  a  matter  of 
history  we  know  that  the  older  methods  of  educating  the 
young  were  faulty,  and  in  some  respects  radically  wrong, 
just  because  they  were  not  arrived  at  by  aid  of  a  profound 
and  scientific  study  of  child-nature.  Thus,  to  take  an 
obvious  instance,  the  cardinal  error  of  making  so  much  of 
intellectual  instruction  dry  and  unpalatable  arose  out  of 
ignorance  of  the  elementary  truth  of  human  nature,  that 
the  intellectual  faculties  are  only  fully  aroused  to  activity 
under  the  stimulus  of  feeling  in  the  shape  of  interest. 
That  this  was  the  real  source  of  the  blunder  is  proved  by 
the  fact  that  the  modern  educational  reformers,  who  have 
set  themselves  to  correct  this  and  other  defects  of  the 
older  system,  were  guided  to  these  reforms  by  a  deeper 
study  of  children's  minds.  This  remark  applies  alike  to 
the  ideas  of  practical  workers,  as  Pestalozzi,  and  of  pure 
theorists,  as  Locke.* 

and  Mrs.  Bryant's  "  Educational  Ends,"  p.  5.    On  some  alternative  defi- 
nitions of  education,  see  Dr.  Bain's  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap.  i. 
*  On  the  effects  of  an  ignorance  of  psychology  in  rendering  con- 


8  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  EDUCATION. 

What  is  really  wanted  as  the  groundwork  of  education 
is  a  body  of  well-ascertained  truths  respecting  the  funda- 
mental properties  of  the  human  being,  from  which  the 
right  and  sound  methods  of  training  the  young  may  be 
seen  to  follow  as  conclusions.  This  theoretic  basis  will 
consist  of  facts  and  laws  relating  to  the  child's  physical 
and  mental  organization,  its  various  susceptibilities,  its 
ways  of  reacting  on  external  agents  and  influences,  and 
the  manner  in  which  it  develops.  And  these  universal 
truths  must  be  supplied  by  some  science  or  sciences. 

Divisions  of  Educational  Science.— These  prin- 
ciples are  derived  in  the  main  from  two  sciences  :  physi- 
ology, or  the  science  which  treats  of  the  bodily  organism, 
its  several  structures  and  functions,  and  psychology,  or 
mental  science  which  deals  with  the  mind,  its  several  fac- 
ulties and  their  mode  of  operation.  The  former  princi- 
ples, including  certain  applications  of  physiological  science 
known  as  hygiene,  underlie  what  is  now  called  physical 
education,  the  training  of  the  bodily  powers  and  the  fur- 
therance of  health.  The  latter  form  the  basis  of  mental 
— i.  e.,  intellectual  and  moral — training. 

Within  the  limits  of  mental  education  we  have  certain 
subdivisions.  Popularly  we  distinguish  between  intellect- 
ual and  moral  education  ;  but  this  twofold  division  is  in- 
adequate. As  we  shall  see  by  and  by,  the  mind  presents 
three  well-marked  and  fundamental  departments — viz., 
the  intellect,  the  emotions,  and  the  will.  The  develop- 
ment of  it  on  any  one  of  these  three  sides  is  to  a  certain 
extent  a  separate  work,  calling  for  its  own  particular  mode 
of  exercise,  and,  one  may  add,  its  own  peculiar  fitness  in 
the  teacher.  These  three  directions  of  training  are  dis- 
tinguishable as  intellectual,  aesthetic,  and  moral  education. 
They  correspond  to  the  three  great  ends:  (i)  the  logical 
end  of  truth,  (2)  the  aesthetic  end  of  beauty,  and  (3)  the 

temporary  educational  practices  faulty  and  even  vicious,  see  Herbert 
Spencer,  '*  Education,"  chap,  i,  p.  24,  and  following. 


DIVISIONS  OF  EDUCATIONAL   SCIENCE,        9 

ethical  end  of  virtue.  The  first  aims  at  building  up  the 
fabric  of  knowledge,  and  developing  the  faculties  by  which 
knowledge  is  reached  ;  the  second,  at  such  a  cultivation  of 
the  feelings  as  will  best  subserve  the  end  of  a  pleasurable 
existence,  and  in  particular  the  appreciation  and  enjoy- 
ment of  beauty  in  nature  and  art  ;  and  the  third,  at  devel- 
oping the  will  and  forming  the  character. 

In  giving  this  assistance  to  education,  psychology  is 
supplemented  by  three  sciences  which  are  not  purely 
theoretical  like  it,  but  have  a  more  practical  character, 
since  they  have  as  their  special  province  to  regulate  the 
activity  of  the  mind  on  each  of  these  three  sides.  These 
are  logic,  which  regulates  our  intellectual  operations  by 
supplying  us  with  rules  for  correct  reasoning  ;  aesthetics, 
which  aims  at  giving  us  a  standard  of  beauty  and  criteria 
by  which  we  may  judge  of  its  existence  in  any  instance  ; 
and  ethics,  which  fixes  the  ultimate  standard  of  right  and 
wrong,  and  determines  what  are  the  several  duties  and 
virtues. 

The  scientific  groundwork  of  the  art  of  education  may 
be  made  clear  by  the  following  diagram  : 


Physical. 


ri 

Physiolog[y 
together  with 


lygiene. 


Fig.  I. 

Education. 


Mental. 


n 


Psychology 

together  with 

Logic, 

Esthetics, 

and  Ethics. 


lO  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  EDUCATION. 

Psychology  and  Education. — Of  the  sciences  that 
contribute  principles  to  education,  psychology  is  plainly 
the  most  important.  The  teacher  is  most  directly  con- 
cerned with  the  development  of  the  child's  mind,  and  con- 
siders his  bodily  organism  mainly  in  its  connection  with 
mental  efficiency. 

Again,  since  the  teacher  is  commonly  supposed  to  have 
as  his  principal  object  the  exercise  of  certain  of  the  intel- 
lectual faculties — viz.,  those  employed  in  the  acquisition 
and  retention  of  knowledge — it  is  clear  that  some  portions 
of  psychology  will  be  of  special  value  to  him.  Thus  the 
laws  governing  the  processes  of  acquiring  and  reproduc- 
ing knowledge  will  have  a  peculiarly  direct  bearing  on 
the  teacher's  work.  Such  truths  of  mental  science  would 
seem  to  be  specially  fitted  to  supply  principles  of  education. 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  clearly  impracticable  to  select 
certain  portions  of  psychology  as  exclusively  applying  to 
education.  For,  first  of  all,  even  allowing  that  education 
need  busy  itself  only  with  instruction,  or  the  communica- 
tion of  so  much  useful  knowledge,  it  may  be  said  that  the 
teacher  still  needs  to  study  other  faculties  than  the  acquis- 
itive ;  for  psychology  teaches  us  that  no  power  of  the  mind 
works  in  perfect  isolation.  Thus,  it  has  come  to  be  recog- 
nized that,  in  order  that  a  child  should  gain  clear  knowl- 
edge through  words,  his  observing  faculties  must  have 
undergone  a  certain  discipline,  so  that  his  mind  may  have 
been  stored  with  distinct  and  easily  reproducible  images 
of  objects  in  his  actual  surroundings.  Hence,  one  reason 
for  including  the  training  of  the  senses  in  modern  systems 
of  education.  More  than  this,  it  will  be  found  that  there 
can  be  no  adequate  exercise  of  the  intellect  which  does 
not  take  account  of  the  feelings,  in  the  shape  of  interest 
and  a  love  of  learning. 

It  follows,  then,  that  the  teacher  needs  some  general 
acquaintance  with  the  principles  of  psychology,  even 
though  he  is  aiming  merely  at  the  most  rapid  and  effect- 


ADVANTAGE   TO    THE   TEACHER.  n 

ive  method  of  storing  the  mind  with  knowledge.  But  it 
may  be  assumed  that  few  teachers  now  limit  their  efforts 
to  this  object.  Education,  in  its  true  sense,  is  commonly- 
aimed  at  by  intelligent  teachers  in  the  process  of  instruc- 
tion itself,  which  thus  becomes,  in  a  measure  at  least,  a 
means  to  an  end  beyond  itself.  And  some  attention  is 
paid,  as  time  allows  and  opportunity  suggests,  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  feelings  and  the  formation  of  good  moral 
dispositions  and  habits.  And  this  being  so,  a  clear  appre- 
hension of  the  different  sides  of  mind,  and  of  the  way  in 
which  they  interact  one  on  another,  may  be  said  to  be  of 
immediate  utility  to  the  teacher.  In  other  words,  the 
principles  of  education  must  be  derived  from  the  element- 
ary truths  of  psychology  taken  as  a  whole. 

It  follows,  from  what  was  said  above  concerning  the 
relation  of  science  to  art,  that  there  are  two  principal  uses 
of  mental  science  to  the  teacher:  (i)  An  accurate  ac- 
quaintance with  the  mental  faculties,  which  are  the  mate- 
rial that  the  educator  has  to  operate  on  and  mold  into 
shape,  will  supply  him  with  a  criterion  or  touchstone  by 
which  he  may  test  the  soundness  of  existing  rules  and 
practices  in  education.  (2)  The  knowledge  so  gained 
may  be  made  to  directly  suggest  better  educational  rules 
than  those  in  vogue,  and  so  to  promote  the  further  devel- 
opment of  the  art. 

No  doubt  we  may  expect  too  much  from  a  study  of 
mental  science.  We  may  err  by  supposing  that  scientific 
knowledge  will  render  practical  or  empirical  knowledge 
superfluous,  instead  of  merely  supplementing  and  correct- 
ing it.  And  it  may  be  well  to  remember,  therefore,  that, 
as  a  science,  psychology  can  only  tell  us  what  are  the  gen- 
eral characters  of  mind,  and  point  out  the  best  way  of 
dealing  with  it  in  its  general  features  and  broad  outlines  ; 
it  can  not  acquaint  us  with  the  manifold  diversities  of  in- 
telligence and  disposition,  or  suggest  the  right  modifica- 
tions of  our  educational  processes  to  suit  these  variations. 


12  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  EDUCATION, 

Accordingly,  the  educator  will  always  need  to  supplement 
his  general  study  of  mind  by  a  careful  observation  of  the 
individual  minds  which  he  is  called  upon  to  deal  with,  so 
as  to  properly  vary  and  adapt  his  methods  of  teaching  and 
disciplining. 

Even  here,  however,  the  student  of  psychology  will 
find  his  scientific  knowledge  useful.  For  the  work  of  get- 
ting to  know  an  individual  child  is  one  not  only  of  obser- 
vation but  of  interpretation.  And  in  the  performance  of 
this  a  general  acquaintance  with  mind  will  materially 
assist.  It  is  evident,  indeed,  that  we  never  understand 
an  individual  thing  thoroughly  except  in  the  light  of  gen- 
eral knowledge.  A  botanist  only  comprehends  a  new 
plant  when  he  classifies  it — i.  e.,  refers  it  to  a  general  de- 
scription or  head,  and  accounts  for  it  by  help  of  general 
botanical  principles.  Similarly  we  only  understand  a  par- 
ticular child  when  we  bring  to  bear  on  it  a  previous  gen- 
eral knowledge  sdi  child  and  human  nature.  And  while 
psychological  knowledge  thus  aids  us  in  reading  the  indi- 
vidual characters  of  children,  it  assists  us  further  in  deter- 
mining the  proper  modifications  of  our  educational  meth- 
ods to  suit  these  variations.  Experience  is  without  doubt 
our  main  guide  here.  What  kind  of  punishment,  for 
example,  will  be  most  efficacious  and  salutary  for  boys  of 
a  particular  temperament,  etc.,  is  a  problem  which  must 
be  solved  to  a  large  extent  by  the  results  of  actual  trial. 
Still,  our  scientific  principles  are  a  valuable  supplementary 
aid  here  also,  not  only  by  helping  us  to  understand  the 
different  results  of  our  educational  treatment  in  different 
cases,  but  also  by  assisting  us  in  lighting  upon  the  required 

modifications. 

APPENDIX. 

On  the  scope  and  aim  of  education  and  its  special  relation  to  psy- 
chology, the  student  may  consult :  Prof,  Payne's  "  Lectures  on  the  Sci- 
ence and  Art  of  Education,"  Lectures  I  and  II ;  Dr.  Bain's  "  Education 
as  a  Science,"  chap,  i ;  Th.  Waitz's  "  Allgemeine  Padagogik,"  Ein. 
leitung,  §  I.* 


CHAPTER   II. 

SCOPE    AND    METHOD    OF    PSYCHOLOGY. 

Psychology,  or  mental  science,  may  be  defined  as  our 
general  knowledge  of  mind,  and  more  particularly  the 
human  mind,  reduced  to  an  exact  and  systematic  form. 
In  order  to  understand  this  definition,  we  must  try  to  give 
precision  to  the  term  mind. 

Scientific  Conception  of  Mind.— We  commonly 
distinguish  between  a  mind  as  a  unity  or  substance  and 
the  several  manifestations  or  phenomena  of  this  substance. 
In  every-day  discourse,  indeed,  we  talk  of  our  own  and 
others'  minds  as  the  subjects  of  various  feelings,  ideas,  etc. 
Psychology  as  a  science  does  not  inquire  into  the  nature 
of  mind  in  itself,  or  as  a  substance,  but  confines  itself  to 
the  study  of  its  several  states  or  operations.  It  is  the 
different  forms  of  activity  of  mind  that  we  can  observe  in 
our  actual  mental  experience  or  mental  life  that  constitute 
the  proper  subject-matter  of  our  science.  And  it  is  plain 
that  this  knowledge  of  the  mind  in  actual  operation,  and 
of  the  various  ways  in  which  it  manifests  itself  and  works, 
is  what  we  need  for  practical  guidance,  whether  of  our 
own  or  of  others'  minds. 

How,  now,  shall  we  mark  off  these  mental  facts  from 
other  phenomena  which  form  the  subject-matter  of  the 
physical  sciences.^  We  can  not  define  such  states  of  mind 
by  resolving  them  into  something  simpler.  They  have 
nothing  in  common  beyond  the  fact  of  being  mental  states. 


14      SCOPE  AND  METHOD  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Hence,  we  can  only  use  some  equivalent  phrase,  as  when 
we  say  that  a  mental  phenomenon  is  a  fact  of  our  con- 
scious experience  or  conscious  life.  Or,  again,  we  may 
enumerate  the  chief  varieties  of  these  mental  phenomena, 
and  say  that  mind  is  the  sum  of  our  processes  of  knowing, 
our  feelings  of  pleasure  and  pain,  and  our  voluntary  do- 
ings. Popularly,  mind  is  apt  to  be  identified  with  know- 
ing or  intelligence.  A  man  of  mind  is  a  man  of  intellect. 
But  though  intelligence  is  perhaps  the  most  important 
part  of  mind,  it  is  not  the  whole.  In  mental  science  we 
must  reckon  the  sensation  of  pain  arising  from  a  bruise  as 
a  fact  of  mind.  Or,  finally,  we  may  set  mind  in  antithesis 
to  what  is  not  mind.  Mind  is  non-material,  has  no  exist- 
ence in  space  as  material  bodies  have.  We  can  not  touch 
a  thought  or  a  feeling,  and  one  feeling  does  not  lie  outside 
of  another  in  space.  These  phenomena  occur  in  time  only. 
Mind  is  thus  the  inner  smaller  world  (mikrokosm)  as  distin- 
guished from  the  external  and  larger  world  (makrokosm). 
Mind  and  Body. — While  it  is  important  thus  to  set 
mind  in  strong  opposition  to  material  things,  we  must  keep 
in  view  the  close  connection  between  the  two.  What  we 
call  a  human  being  is  made  up  of  a  bodily  organism  and 
a  mind.  Our  personality  or  "  self  "  is  a  mind  connected 
with  or  embodied  in  a  material  framework.  As  we  shall 
see  presently,  all  mental  processes  or  operations  are  con- 
nected with  actions  of  the  nervous  system.  The  most 
abstract  thought  is  accompanied  by  some  mode  of  activity 
in  the  brain-centers.  Hence,  while  we  must  be  careful 
not  to  confuse  the  mental  and  the  material,  the  psychical 
and  the  physical,  as  though  they  were  of  the  same  kind 
(homogeneous),  we  can  not  exclude  the  latter  from  view 
in  dealing  with  mind.  We  must  always  think  of  mind  as 
attended  by,  and,  in  some  inexplicable  way,  related  to,  the 
living  organism,  and  more  particularly  the  nervous  system 
and  its  actions.  And  this  recognition  of  this  close  and 
constant  companionship  with  body  is  a  matter  of  great 


HOW    WE  OBSERVE  AND   STUDY  MIND. 


15 


practical  moment  in  seeking  to  train  and  develop  the 
mind. 

The  Subjective  Method.— There  are  two  distinct 
ways  of  knowing  mind.  The  first  is  the  direct,  internal, 
or  subjective  way.*  By  this  method  we  direct  attention  to 
what  is  going  on  in  our  own  mind  at  the  time  of  its  oc- 
currence, or  afterward.  We  have  the  power  of  turning 
the  attention  inward  on  the  phenomena  of  mind.  Thus 
we  can  attend  to  a  particular  feeling,  say  emulation  or 
sympathy,  in  order  to  see  what  its  nature  is,  of  what  ele- 
mentary parts  it  consists,  and  how  it  is  affected  by  the 
circumstances  of  the  moment.  This  method  of  internal 
or  subjective  observation  is  known  as  introspection 
("  looking  within  "). 

The  Objective  Method. — In  the  second  place,  we 
may  study  mental  phenomena  not  only  in  our  own  indi- 
vidual mind,  but  as  they  present  themselves  externally 
in  other  minds.  This  is  the  indirect,  external,  or  object- 
ive way  of  studying  mental  phenomena.  Thus  we  note 
the  manifestations  of  others'  feelings  in  looks,  gestures, 
etc.  We  arrive  at  a  knowledge  of  their  thoughts  by  their 
speech,  and  observe  their  inclinations  and  motives  by 
noting  their  actions. 

This  objective  observation  embraces  not  only  the 
mental  phenomena  of  the  individuals  who  are  personally 
known  to  us,  old  and  young,  but  those  of  others  of  whom 
we  hear  or  read  in  biography,  etc.  Also  it  includes  the 
study  of  minds  in  masses  or  aggregates,  as  they  present 
themselves  in  national  sentiments  and  actions,  and  in  the 
events  of  history.  It  includes  too  a  comparative  study  of 
mind  by  observing  its  agreements  and  differences  among 

*  "Subject"  means  the  mind  as  knowing  something,  or  as  affected 
(pleasurably  or  painfully)  by  a  thing.  "Object"  is  that  which  is 
known,  or  which  affects  the  mind  in  a  certain  way.  The  house  I  see, 
the  flov/er  I  admire,  are  objects  to  me,  who  am  the  subject  that  sees 
and  admires  them. 


1 6     SCOPE  AND  METHOD  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

different  races,  and  even  among  different  grades  of  ani- 
mal life.  The  study  of  the  simpler  phases  of  mind 
in  the  child,  in  backward  and  uncivilized  races,  and  in 
the  lower  animals,  is  especially  valuable  for  understanding 
the  growth  of  the  mature  or  fully  developed  human  mind. 

Both  Methods  must  be  combined. — Scientific 
knowledge  is  characterized  by  certainty,  exactness,  and 
generality.  We  must  observe  carefully  so  as  to  make 
sure  of  our  facts,  and  to  note  precisely  what  is  present. 
And  we  must  go  on  from  a  knowledge  of  the  particular 
to  a  knowledge  of  the  general.  From  this  rough  defini- 
tion of  what  is  meant  by  scientific  knowledge  we  may 
easily  see  that  neither  the  internal  nor  the  external 
method  is  complete  without  the  other.  To  begin  with : 
since  we  only  directly  observe  what  is  passing  in  our  own 
individual  mind,  some  amount  of  introspection  is  the  first 
condition  of  all  certain  and  accurate  knowledge  of  mental 
states.  To  try  to  discover  mental  phenomena  and  their 
laws  solely  by  watching  the  external  signs  and  effects  of 
others'  thoughts,  feelings,  and  volitions,  would  plainly  be 
absurd.  For  these  external  manifestations  are  in  them- 
selves as  empty  of  meaning  as  words  in  an  unknown 
tongue,  and  only  receive  their  meaning  by  a  reference  to 
what  we  ourselves  have  thought  and  felt.  On  the  other 
hand,  an  exclusive  attention  to  the  contents  of  our  indi- 
vidual mind  would  never  give  us  a  general  knowledge  of 
mind.  In  order  to  eliminate  the  effects  of  individuality, 
we  must  at  every  step  compare  our  own  modes  of  think- 
ing and  feeling  with  those  of  other  minds  ;  and  the  wider 
the  area  included  in  our  comparison,  the  sounder  are  our 
generalizations  likely  to  be. 

Each  of  these  ways  of  studying  mind  has  its  character- 
istic difficulties.  To  attend  closely  to  the  events  of  our 
mental  life  presupposes  a  certain  power  of  "abstraction." 
It  requires  at  first  a  considerable  effort  to  withdraw  the 
attention  from  the  more  striking  events  of  the  external 


OBSERVATION  OF  CHILDREN'S  MINDS.      \j 

world,  the  sights  and  sounds  that  surround  us,  and  to 
keep  it  fixed  on  the  comparatively  obscure  events  of  the 
inner  world.  Even  in  the  case  of  the  trained  psychologist 
the  work  is  always  attended  with  a  peculiar  difficulty.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  is  a  serious  danger  in  reading  the 
minds  of  others,  due  to  an  excess  of  the  propensity  to 
project  our  own  modes  of  thinking  and  feeling  into  them. 
This  danger  increases  with  the  remoteness  of  the  mind  we 
are  observing  from  our  own.  To  apprehend,  for  example, 
the  sentiments  and  convictions  of  an  ancient  Roman,  or 
of  an  uncivilized  African,  is  a  very  delicate  operation.  It 
implies  close  attention  to  the  differences  as  well  as  the 
similarities  of  external  manifestation,  also  an  effort  of 
imagination  by  which,  though  starting  from  some  remem- 
bered experiences  of  our  own,  we  feel  our  way  into  a  new 
set  of  circumstances,  new  experiences,  and  a  new  set  of 
mental  habits. 

Observation  of  Children's  Minds.— These  diffi- 
culties are  strikingly  illustrated  in  the  attempt  to  note  and 
interpret  the  external  manifestations  of  children's  minds. 
This  observation  is  of  the  greatest  consequence  to  psy- 
chologists in  general,  for  a  sound  knowledge  of  the  early 
manifestations  of  mind  is  a  necessary  preliminary  to  a  sci- 
entific explanation  of  its  later  developments.  And  to  the 
educator  this  knowledge  constitutes  the  most  important 
department  of  the  science  of  mind.  Yet  this  is  perhaps 
one  of  the  most  difficult  branches  of  psychological  inquiry. 

The  reason  of  this  can  easily  be  seen.  Children  have 
their  own  characteristic  ways  of  feeling,  of  regarding 
things,  of  judging  as  to  truth,  and  so  forth.  And,  al- 
though the  adult  observer  of  children  has  himself  been  a 
child,  he  is  unable,  except  in  rare  cases,  to  recall  his  own 
childish  experiences  with  any  distinctness.  How  many  of 
us  are  really  able  to  recollect  the  wonderings,  the  terrors, 
the  grotesque  fancies  of  our  first  years  ?  And  then  chil- 
dren are  apt  to  be  misunderstood  because  they  have  to 


1 8      SCOPE  AND  METHOD   OF  PSYCHOLOGY, 

use  our  medium  of  speech  and  often  fail  to  seize  its  exact 
meaning. 

Nevertheless,  these  difficulties  are  not  insuperable. 
They  can  be  got  over  where  there  are  present  the  qualifi- 
cations of  a  good  observer  and  an  earnest  purpose.  And 
it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  if  there  are  special  difficul- 
ties in  the  case,  there  are  also  special  facilities.  For  chil- 
dren, as  compared  with  adults,  are  frank  in  the  manifesta- 
tion of  their  feelings,  and  free  from  the  many  little  artifices 
by  which  their  elders  are  wont,  only  half  consciously 
perhaps,  to  disguise  and  transform  their  real  thoughts  and 
sentiments  in  expressing  them  to  others. 

The  special  qualities  needed  for  a  close  observation 
and  deep  understanding  of  the  child-mind  are  good  ob- 
serving habits  and  a  strong,  loving  interest  in  childhood. 
Both  of  these  are  necessary.  If  we  have  only  the  first,  we 
shall  fail  to  see  far  into  child-nature,  just  because  we  shall 
not  take  the  trouble  to  place  ourselves,  in  imagination,  in 
the  circumstances  of  children,  so  as  to  realize  how  they 
are  affected  by  things.  A  warm,  tender  interest,  leading 
to  a  habit  of  unfettered  companionship,  seems  to  be  a 
condition  of  a  fine  imaginative  insight  into  children's 
minds,  and  a  firm  grasp  of  the  fact  that  their  ways  differ 
in  so  many  particulars  from  our  ways.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  there  is  the  kindly  feeling  without  the  trained 
faculty  of  observation,  there  is  the  risk  of  idealizing  child- 
hood, and  investing  it  with  admirable  traits  that  do  not 
really  belong  to  it. 

In  the  matter  of  child-observation  the  psychologist 
may  look  to  the  educators  of  the  young,  the  parent  and 
the  teachers,  for  valuable  aid.  Some  of  the  best  observa- 
tions on  the  subject  of  the  infant  mind  which  we  already 
possess  have  been  contributed  by  fathers.  And  much 
may  still  be  done  by  parents  in  the  way  of  recording  the 
course  of  development  of  individual  children.  At  the 
same  time,  school-teachers,  though  coming  into  less  inti- 


GENERAL  KNOWLEDGE  OF  MIND.  19 

mate  relations  with  individual  children,  have  the  very  great 
advantage  of  observing  numbers.  And  from  them  we  may 
reasonably  ask  for  statistics  of  childhood.  The  dates  at 
which  certain  faculties  become  prominent,  the  relative 
strength  of  the  several  feelings  and  impulses,  the  dominant 
intellectual  and  moral  characteristics  of  children,  these 
and  other  points  are  all  matters  about  which  teachers,  who 
will  take  the  trouble  to  note  accurately,  may  be  expected 
to  supply  the  psychologists  of  the  future  with  much  valu- 
able knowledge.* 

General  Knowledge  of  Mind. — As  has  been  ob- 
served, science  consists  of  general  knowledge,  or  knowl- 
edge expressed  in  a  general  form.  Hence,  mental  science 
seeks  to  generalize  our  knowledge  of  mind.  In  the  first 
place,  it  aims  at  grouping  all  the  phenomena  observed 
under  certain  heads.  That  is  to  say,  it  classifies  the  end- 
less variety  of  mental  states  according  to  their  resem- 
blances. In  so  doing  it  overlooks  the  individual  differ- 
ences of  minds  and  fixes  attention  on  their  common  feat- 
ures. A  sound  scientific  classification  of  mental  states  is 
a  matter  of  practical  importance,  whether  we  are  dealing 
with  minds  in  the  earlier  or  the  later  stages  of  develop- 
ment. Thus,  the  teacher  will  be  in  a  far  better  position 
to  deal  with  a  child's  mind,  both  in  its  several  parts  and 
as  a  whole,  when  he  has  reduced  the  tangle  of  mental 
manifestations  to  order  and  simplicity. 

In  the  second  place,  every  science  aims  not  only  at 
ordering  its  phenomena,  but  at  making  certain  assertions 
about  them.  There  are  general  truths  or  laws  which  hold 
good  of  numerous  varieties  of  phenomena.  When  the 
phenomena  are  occurrences  in  time,  these  laws  have  to  do 
with  the  relation  of  events  to  other  events  preceding  or 

*  On  the  qualifications  of  an  observer  of  children's  minds,  and  on 
the  literature  of  the  subject,  see  the  writer's  Introduction  to  M.  Perez's 
work,  "  The  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood."   London :  W.  Swan  Son- 
nenschcin  &  Co. 
3 


20      SCOPE  AND  METHOD  OF  PSYCHOLOGY, 

succeeding  them.  That  is  to  say,  they  formulate  the  re- 
lations of  causal  dependence  of  phenomena  on  other  phe- 
nomena. Mental  science  seeks  to  arrive  at  such  truths  or 
laws  of  mind.  Its  ultimate  object  is  to  determine  the  con* 
ditions  on  which  mental  phenomena  depend.  Thus,  the 
psychologist  asks  what  are  the  conditions  of  retention, 
what  are  the  circumstances  which  produce  and  favor  the 
keeping  of  impressions  in  the  mind.  And  it  is  this  knowl- 
edge of  conditions  and  of  laws  which  is  of  greatest  practi- 
cal value.  For  it  is  only  by  understanding  how  a  mental 
product  is  formed  that  we  can  help  in  forming  it,  or  inter- 
fere so  as  to  modify  the  process  of  formation. 

Now,  a  little  attention  to  the  subject  will  show  that 
mental  phenomena  are  related  in  the  way  of  dependence 
not  only  to  other  phenomena  immediately  preceding,  but 
to  remotely  antecedent  phenomena.  For  example,  the 
quick  response  of  a  child  to  a  command  depends  not  only 
on  certain  present  conditions,  viz.,  attention  to  the  words 
of  the  command,  etc.,  but  on  past  conditions,  on  the  forma- 
tion of  a  habit,  which  process  may  have  been  going  on  for 
years.  Hence,  the  consideration  of  relations  of  depend- 
ence leads  on  to  the  view  of  mind  as  a  process  of  growth  or 
development.  The  most  important  laws  of  mind,  from  the 
educator's  point  of  view,  are  laws  of  mental  development. 

Before  we  go  on  to  consider  the  several  groups  of 
mental  states  in  detail  and  the  laws  which  govern  them, 
we  shall  do  well  to  look  at  mind  from  the  physiological 
side,  that  is  to  say,  at  the  way  in  which  the  mind  as  a 
whole  is  affected  by  its  connection  with  the  bodily  organ- 
ism. This  aspect  of  our  subject  will  occupy  us  in  the 
next  chapter. 

APPENDIX. 

For  a  fuller  account  of  the  scope  and  method  of  psychology  the 
reader  is  referred  to  my  larger  work,  "  Outlines  of  Psychology,"  Ap- 
pendix A  ;  also  to  the  works  referred  to  in  the  appendix  to  Chapter  II 
of  that  volume  ;  and  particularly  to  Dr.  J.  Ward's  article  "  Psychology," 
in  the  gth  edition  of  the  "  Encyclopaedia  Britannica." 


CHAPTER   III. 

MIND    AND    BODY. 

Connection  between  Mind  and  Body.— When  we 
say  that  mind  and  body  are  connected,  we  are  simply 
stating  a  fact  of  our  every-day  experience,  and  a  fact 
which  scientific  observation  and  experiment  are  rendering 
more  and  more  certain  and  precise.  That  is  to  say,  we 
affirm  that  mental  processes  or  operations  are  in  some  way 
conjoined  with  bodily  operations.  We  do  not  make  any 
assertion  as  to  the  ultimate  nature  of  mind  or  of  body,  or 
seek  to  account  for  the  apparent  mystery  of  two  things  so 
utterly  disparate  as  mind  and  body  being  thus  united  in 
one  living  being.  These  problems  lie  outside  science 
altogether,  and  belong  to  the  domain  of  philosophy  or 
metaphysics. 

Keeping  then  to  ih.Q  phenomena^  or  observable  processes 
of  mind  and  of  body,  we  find  first  of  all  that  these  are 
clearly  conjoined  in  time.  That  is  to  say,  mental  activity 
goes  on  along  with  bodily  activity  and  always  has  this  for 
its  accompaniment.  We  know  nothing  of  mental  opera- 
tions that  are  unattended  by  physical  changes  in  certain 
portions  of  the  body.  And  some  of  these  physiological 
processes  appear  to  be  perfectly  simultaneous  with  the 
mental  operations  to  which  they  correspond.  In  the 
second  place,  there  is  an  apparent  interaction  between 
the  mental  and  physical  processes.  As  we  shall  see 
presently,  there  are  certain  organs  of  the  body  which  are 


22  MIND  AND  BODY. 

in  a  peculiar  way  subservient  to  the  discharge  of  the 
several  mental  functions.  According  to  their  state  at  any- 
time will  mental  activity  be  lively  or  otherwise.  More- 
over, by  influencing  these  physical  organs  we  may  pro- 
duce changes  in  the  correlated  mental  operations.  Hence 
we  are  justified  in  speaking  about  these  organs  as  the 
physiological  support  of  mind,  and  of  their  activity  as  the 
condition  of  mental  activity.  On  the  other  hand,  mental 
processes  react  on  the  bodily  organism.  Thus  excessive 
intellectual  activity,  violent  grief,  and  so  forth,  are  known 
to  have  far-reaching  effects  on  the  bodily  functions. 

The  Nervous  System. — The  particular  organs  which 
thus  subserve  our  mental  life  are  known  as  the  nervous 
system,  of  which  the  brain  is  one  of  the  most  important 
parts.  These  are  therefore  known  as  the  organs  of 
mind.* 

The  nervous  system  is  a  connected  set  of  physio- 
logical structures,  composed  of  a  very  fine  or  highly 
organized  form  of  living  matter.  These  fall  into  two 
main  divisions  :  compact  masses  known  as  nerve-centers, 
lying  protected  within  the  bony  covering  of  the  skull  and 
backbone  ;  and  extensive  thread-like  ramifications  known 
as  nerves,  connecting  these  central  masses  with  outlying 
regions  of  the  body. 

The  nerves,  which  are  bundles  of  exceedingly  fine 
white  fibers  or  threadlets,  are  the  carrying  portion  of  the 
nervous  apparatus.  They  are  of  two  classes.-  The  first 
connect  the  centers  with  outlying  surfaces,  which  are 
susceptible  of  being  acted  on  by  certain  external  agents 
or  stimuli,  such  as  mechanical  pressure,  heat,  etc.  Their 
function  is  to  transmit  the  state  of  nervous  activity  pro- 
duced by  this  stimulation  from  the  periphery  to  the 
center.     Hence  they  are  known  as  incarrying  or  afferent 

*  The  nervous  system  here  means  the  cerebro-spinal  system  as  dis- 
tinct from  the  sympathetic  system  which  subserves  the  lower  vital 
functions  of  the  body. 


THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM, 


23 


nerves.  Since  the  central  effect  of  this  transmission  of 
the  active  state  is  what  we  call  a  sensation,  these  nerves 
are  also  called  sensory  nerves,  and  the  peripheral  surfaces 
sensory  surfaces.  Such  are  the  skin,  the  retina  of  the 
eye,  etc.  The  other  class  of  nerves  connect  the  centers 
with  muscles,  or  those  bundles  of  fiber  by  the  contractions 
of  which  the  limbs  are  moved  and  the  voice  exercised. 
They  carry  nervous  impulses  from  within  outward,  and 
are  known  as  outcarrying  or  efferent  nerves.  And  since 
this  outgoing  activity  immediately  precedes  and  produces 
muscular  contraction,  and  so  movement,  they  arc  also 
called  motor  nerves. 

The  nerve-centers  are  made  up  partly  of  gray  masses 
having  a  minute  cellular  structure,  and  partly  of  bundles  of 
nerve  fiber,  connecting  these  masses  one  with  another,  both 
laterally  and  longitudinally.  They  have  as  their  peculiar 
function  to  transform  sensory  stimulation  into  movement, 
and  to  adjust  the  latter  to  the  former  ;  also  to  bring  to- 
gether the  results  of  different  sensory  stimulations,  and  to  ad- 
just complex  groups  of  movements  to  groups  of  impression. 

These  nerve-centers  are  arranged  in  a  series  or  scale  of 
growing  complexity.  The  lower  centers  are  those  residing 
in  the  backbone  and  known  as  the  spinal  column.  The 
higher  centers  lodged  within  the  skull  are  called  the  brain. 

From  this  brief  description  of  the  nervous  system,  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  general  form  of  nervous  action  is  a 
process  of  sensory  stimulation  followed  by  one  of  motor 
excitation.    This  may  be  represented  by  the  diagram,  Fig.  2. 

This  scheme  roughly  answers  to  the  simpler  type  of 
actions  of  ourselves  as  well  as  of  the  lower  animals,  the 
type  known  as  reflex  action,  i.  e.,  movement  in  immediate 
response  to  external  stimulus.  Thus,  when  a  child  asleep 
instantly  withdraws  his  foot  when  this  is  pressed,  the  action 
is  effected  by  means  of  the  lower  spinal  centers.  Such 
reflex  actions,  however,  are  not  attended  with  any  mental 
activity  ;  they  are  unconscious. 


24 


MIND  AND  BODY. 
Fig.  2. 


Sensory  Surface 


*  Nerve-Centers 


Muscles. 


The  more  complicated  actions  involve  the  co-operation 
of  the  brain  as  well.     In  this  case  we  have  to  suppose  that 


Fig.  3. 


Senoory  Surface 


Higher  Nerve-Centen$. 


*  Lower  Nerve-Centers. 


Mu8cl(?9. 


THE  SPECIAL   ORGANS  OF  MIND.  25 

the  sensory  stimulation,  instead  of  passing  over  at  once 
into  motor  impulse,  is  propagated  further,  and  engages  a 
larger  portion  of  the  central  structures.  .  This  may  be 
represented  by  the  diagram,  Fig  3. 

Such  complicated  actions  are  accompanied  by  mental 
activity  or  consciousness.  They  may  be  illustrated  by  the 
act  of  reUeving  the  pressure  of  a  tight  boot  by  stooping 
and  taking  it  off.  This  action  involves  a  distinct  sensation 
of  pressure,  and  the  action  of  the  will  in  resolving  to  get 
rid  of  the  discomfort. 

The  Special  Organs  of  Mind.— We  see  from  this 
that  mental  life  is  connected  with  the  action  of  the  higher 
centers,  or  the  brain.  Only  when  the  brain  is  called  to 
take  part  is  there  any  distinct  mental  accompaniment. 
The  brain  thus  stands  in  relation  to  the  lower  centers 
somewhat  as  the  head  of  an  office  stands  in  relation  to  his 
subordinates.  The  mechanical  routine  of  the  office  is  car- 
ried on  by  them.  He  is  called  on  to  interfere  only  when 
some  unusual  action  has  to  be  carried  out,  and  reflection 
and  decision  are  needed.  Moreover,  just  as  the  principal 
of  an  office  is  able  to  hand  over  work  to  his  subordinates 
when  it  ceases  to  be  unusual  and  becomes  methodized  and 
reduced  to  rule,  so  we  shall  find  that  the  brain  or  certain 
portions  of  it  are  able  to  withdraw  from  actions  when 
they  have  grown  thoroughly  familiar.  This  is  illustrated 
in  the  actions  which  we  perform  with  little  consciousness 
because  they  have  become  easy  and  mechanical  by  repeti- 
tion and  habit. 

According  to  this  view,  the  activity  of  the  brain,  together  with  the 
mental  life  which  accompanies  it,  intervenes  between  the  action  of  ex- 
ternal things  on  the  organism  and  the  active  response  of  this  organism, 
and  subserves  the  higher  and  more  complicated  adjustments  of  mus- 
cular movement  to  sensory  stimulation.  All  the  earlier  and  simpler 
forms  of  cerebral  activity  are  excited  by  the  action  of  external  sensory 
stimuli,  and  are  directed  to  the  performance  of  external  actions  in  the 
immediate  future. 

The  later  and  more  complicated  actions  of  the  brain  do  not  conform 


26  MIND  AND  BODY. 

to  this  description.  We  carry  out  many  processes  of  reflection  which 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  external  surroundings  of  the  moment,  and 
which,  moreover,  are  not  directed  to  the  immediate  realization  of  any 
desire  or  purpose.  Much  of  the  intellectual  life  of  educated  people  is 
of  this  internal  character.  But  even  this  apparently  isolated  internal 
activity  of  the  brain  may  be  reduced  to  the  same  fundamental  type,  by 
considering  it  as  indirectly  excited  by  impressions  from  without,  and 
as  a  preparation  for  remote  actions,  certain  or  contingent,  in  the  future. 
Thus,  the  study  of  a  science  like  chemistry  or  astronomy  may  be  de- 
scribed as  only  a  high  stage  of  elaboration  of  materials  obtained  from 
sense,  and  as  undertaken  because  of  its  remote  bearings  on  our  actions.* 

Nature  of  Nervous  Action. — The  precise  nature  of 
nervous  action  is  still  a  matter  of  uncertainty.  It  appears 
to  be  some  form  of  molecular  movement  of  a  vibratory- 
character,  and  propagated  somewhat  in  the  manner  of 
other  vibratory  movements,  as  those  of  heat  and  elec^ 
tricity. 

The  nerve-centers  are  a  storehouse  of  energy,  and  their 
action  increases  the  force  of  the  current  of  stimulation 
which  passes  through  them.  This  originating  action  of 
the  central  structures  is  known  as  the  nervous  discharge, 
and  involves  the  liberation  of  energy  which  was  previously 
stored  up  in  a  latent  condition.  This  setting  free  of  nerv- 
ous energy  is  effected  by  a  process  of  disintegration  or  dis- 
organization in  which  the  highly  organized  matter  of  the 
brain  undergoes  chemical  changes  and  enters  into  com- 
bination with  the  oxygen  which  is  brought  by  the  blood. 
The  force  thus  liberated  may  accordingly  be  said  to  have 
been  supplied  by  the  process  of  nutrition,  and  to  have  be- 
come latent  in  the  work  of  building  up  the  organic  sub- 
stance of  the  brain.  The  relation  between  brain-nutrition 
and  brain-action  has  been  illustrated  by  the  following 
analogy.  If  we  take  a  number  of  bricks  and  set  them  up 
on  end  in  a  row  sufficiently  near  one  another,  a  slight 
amount  of  pressure  applied  to  the  first  member  of  the 
series  will  cause  the  whole  to  fall,  each  brick  adding  some- 
thing to  the  force  of  the  transmitted  impact.     Our  muscu- 


MENTAL  ACTIVITY  AND  BRAIN  EFFICIENCY,  27 

lar  work  in  setting  up  the  bricks  was  transformed  into 
latent  or  potential  energy,  viz.,  that  involved  in  the  un- 
stable position  of  the  bricks  and  their  liability  to  fall. 
According  to  this  analogy,  the  organic  substance  of  the 
brain  is  an  unstable  compound  easily  broken  up,  and  so 
constituting  a  reservoir  of  force. 

We  see  from  this  that  the  nerve-substance  is  being 
ever  unmade  and  remade,  or  disintegrated  and  redinte- 
grated ;  and,  further,  that  there  is  a  necessary  correlation 
between  these  two  processes  of  decomposition  and  repara- 
tion, so  that  no  nervous  action  is  possible  except  nutrition 
has  first  done  its  work. 

Mental  Activity  and  Brain  Efficiency. — As  already 
pointed  out,  mental  activity  is  directly  connected  with 
the  exercise  of  brain-function.  When  a  child  uses  his 
mind  in  any  way,  either  by  trying  to  learn  something  or 
by  giving  way  to  great  emotional  excitement,  his  brain  is 
at  work.  The  greater  the  mental  activity,  the  more  the 
resources  of  the  brain  are  taxed.  This  activity  of  the 
brain  necessitates  an  increased  circulation  of  the  blood  in 
the  organ,  both  for  supplying  the  nutritive  materials  re- 
quired, and  for  furthering  the  process  of  nervous  action 
itself  by  an  adequate  supply  of  oxygen,  and  by  a  suffi- 
ciently rapid  removal  of  the  waste  products. 

If  the  brain  thus  furnishes  the  physical  support  of 
mental  activity,  it  is  to  be  expected  that  this  will  vary  in 
amount  with  the  state  of  the  organ.  And  this  is  what  we 
find.  We  all  know  that  if  the  nervous  energy  is  lowered 
in  any  way,  as  by  bodily  fatigue,  grief,  etc.,  the  brain  re- 
fuses to  work  smoothly  and  easily.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  action  of  stimulants,  as  alcohol,  on  the  brain  illustrates 
how  the  mental  activity  may  for  a  time  be  raised  by  add- 
ing to  the  excitability,  and  so  intensifying  the  activity  of 
the  brain. 

The  amount  of  disposable  energy  in  the  brain  at  any 
time,  and  the  consequent  readiness  for  work,  will  vary 


28  MIND  AND  BODY. 

with  a  number  of  circumstances,  (i)  Since  the  brain  and 
nervous  system  as  a  whole  are  parts  of  the  bodily  organ- 
ism, that  is  to  say,  a  system  of  organs  closely  connected 
with  and  powerfully  interacting  on  one  another,  any  con- 
siderable fluctuation  in  the  condition  of  one  of  the  other 
organs  will  tell  on  the  efficiency  of  the  brain.  Thus  the 
special  demand  on  the  digestive  organs  after  a  good  meal, 
leading  to  a  diversion  of  blood  as  well  as  of  nervous  ener- 
gy in  that  direction,  interferes  for  the  time  with  brain- 
work.  Similarly  great  muscular  exertion  militates  against 
mental  application.  Again,  a  disturbance  of  the  proper 
function  of  the  vital  organs,  such  as  a  fit  of  indigestion  or 
an  impeded  circulation  of  the  blood,  is  known  to  be  an 
obstacle  to  mental  activity.  Once  more,  all  fluctuations 
in  the  condition  of  the  organism  as  a  whole,  whether  the 
periodic  exaltation  and  depression  of  the  physical  powers 
which  constitute  the  daily  vital  rhythm  of  the  body,  or 
the  irregular  changes  which  we  call  fluctuations  of  health, 
involve  the  brain  as  well.  The  organ  of  mind  shares  with 
the  whole  body  in  the  vigor  and  freshness  of  the  morning, 
and  the  lassitude  of  the  evening ;  and  it  shares  in  the 
fluctuating  well-being  of  the  body.  Lastly,  the  mind,  in 
conjunction  with  the  body,  passes  through  the  longer  pro- 
cesses of  growth  and  decay  which  constitute  the  course  of 
the  individual  life. 

Brain- Activity  and  Brain-Fatigue.— (2)  While  the 
efficiency  of  the  brain  thus  depends  on  the  state  of  the 
bodily  organs,  it  is  affected  by  the  preceding  state  of  the 
organ  itself.  Thus,  after  a  period  of  rest,  the  nervous 
substance  being  duly  renewed,  there  is  a  special  readiness 
for  work.  It  is  this  circumstance  which  explains  the  in- 
vigorating effects  on  the  powers  of  the  brain  of  sound 
sleep,  and  of  less  complete  forms  of  mental  repose,  such 
as  are  found  in  the  lighter  intellectual  recreations.  On 
the  other  hand,  all  brain-work  tends  to  exhaust  the  nerv- 
ous  energy  and   so  to   lower  the  subsequent   efficiency. 


OVERTAXING    THE  BRAIN. 


29 


If  the  work  is  light  in  character,  the  effects  are  of  course 
less  noticeable  :  nothing  like  brain-fatigue  is  induced,  and 
we  may  be  unaware  of  any  falling  off  in  power.  On  the 
other  hand,  after  a  severe  application  of  the  mind,  even 
for  a  short  time,  we  become  distinctly  aware  of  certain 
sensations  of  fatigue,  as  well  as  of  a  temporary  falling  off 
in  vigor.  In  the  case  of  children,  whose  stock  of  brain- 
vigor  i?  much  smaller,  these  effects  show  themselves  much 
sooner. 

The  physiological  explanation  of  these  facts  is  as  fol- 
lows :  In  the  lighter  kinds  of  brain-activity,  the  consump- 
tion of  brain-material  being  small,  the  process  of  recuper- 
ation easily  k-^ps  pace  with  it.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the 
heavier  sorts  of  mental  work,  energy  is  consumed  faster 
than  it  can  be  supplied  ;  the  process  of  redintegration 
does  not  keep  pace  with  that  of  disintegration.  This 
points  to  the  necessity  of  a  frequent  relaxation  of  the 
nervous  strain,  especially  at  the  beginning  of  school-life. 

Effects  of  Brain-Activity  on  the  Organism. — But 
this  is  not  the  whole  effect  of  brain-activity.  In  cases 
where  the  powers  of  the  organ  are  taxed  for  a  prolonged 
period,  other  organs  are  liable  to  be  affected.  Thus,  since 
prolonged  brain-exercise  draws  off  the  blood  in  too  large 
a  quantity  to  that  organ,  it  is  apt  to  impede  the  general 
circulation,  and  so  to  give  rise  to  the  familiar  discomforts 
of  cold  feet,  etc.  Graver  results  may  ensue  in  the  case  of 
the  too  eager  student  who  by  using  up  nerve-energy  too 
extravagantly  in  brain-work  leaves  too  little  for  the  other 
functions  of  the  nervous  system,  and  more  particularly  the 
regulation  of  the  vital  processes,  and  so  becomes  the  sub- 
ject of  chronic  dyspepsia,  etc.  We  thus  see  that  while  the 
state  of  the  bodily  organs  influences  that  of  the  brain, 
there  is  an  important  reciprocal  action  of  the  higher  organ 
on  the  lower  ones. 

Overtaxing  the  Brain. — It  follows  from  the  above 
remarks  that  it  is  possible  to  exact  from  the  brain  more 


30 


MTND  AND  BODY. 


work  than  it  is  good  for  it  to  perform.  Wherever  brain- 
work  is  accompanied  by  a  distinct  feeling  of  fatigue,  this 
points  to  an  overstimulation  of  the  organ.  By  overstimu- 
lation is  meant,  first  of  all,  bringing  pressure  to  bear  on 
the  brain  so  as  to  excite  it  to  activity  beyond  the  point  at 
which  recuperation  keeps  pace  with  expenditure  of  energy  ; 
and,  secondly,  the  exercise  of  the  brain  disproportionately, 
that  is,  in  relation  to  the  other  organs  of  the  body,  more 
particularly  the  vital  organs. 

It  is  exceedingly  important  to  distinguish  this  second 
and  more  profound  sense  of  the  term  overstimulation  from 
the  first.  There  can  be  overexercise  of  the  brain  when 
the  local  symptoms  of  brain-fatigue  are  not  present.  The 
brain,  like  the  other  organs,  learns  to  adapt  itself  within 
certain  limits  to  the  amount  of  work  required  of  it,  A 
child,  when  first  subjected  to  the  prolonged  and  system- 
atic stimulation  of  the  school,  comes  in  a  short  time  to  feel 
less  of  the  strain  of  mental  application.  This  may  mean 
a  diminution  of  effort  by  the  normal  results  of  exercise  and 
growth  ;  but  it  may  also  mean  that  the  increased  activity 
of  the  organ  is  due  to  an  unfair  distribution  of  the  phys- 
ical energy,  the  organ  of  mind  being  enriched  at  the  expense 
of  the  vital  organs. 

Now,  this  risk  is  peculiarly  great  in  early  life,  when  a 
large  fund  of  nutritive  material  is  needed  for  the  processes 
of  growth.  Severe  exercise  of  any  organ,  by  using  up 
material  in  functional  action,  though  it  may  further  the 
development,  i.  e.,  the  higher  structural  condition  of  that 
organ,  is  directly  opposed  to  the  growth,  that  is,  the  ex- 
pansion in  bulk  of  the  body. 

All  severe  exercise  of  the  brain  in  early  life  is  opposed 
to  the  laws  of  development  of  the  child's  being.  Accord- 
ing to  these  the  lower  vital  functions  are  developed  before 
the  higher.  First  comes  the  vegetal  or  nutritive  life  ;  then 
the  common  animal  life  of  sense  and  movement ;  and 
finally  the  distinctly  human  life  of  mind.     The  develop- 


VARIATION  OF  BRAIN-EXERCISE.  31 

ment  of  these  higher  mental  functions  is  only  normal  and 
safe  when  a  firm  basis  of  physical  strength  and  well-being 
has  first  been  laid  down.  To  try  to  force  on  the  functions 
of  the  brain  in  advance  of  those  of  the  vital  organs  is  to 
endanger  the  whole  organism,  and  along  with  this  the  or- 
gans of  mind  themselves.* 

In  thus  touching  on  the  risks  of  educational  pressure, 
it  may  be  well  to  add  that  they  are  susceptible  of  being 
overrated  as  well  as  underrated.  It  is  an  error  to  suppose 
that  all  systematic  teaching  tends  in  the  direction  of  over- 
excitation of  the  brain.  So  far  from  this  being  the  case, 
it  may  be  confidently  said  that  within  certain  limits  mental 
occupation  is  distinctly  beneficial  to  the  child.  Every 
organ  requires  a  certain  amount  of  exercise  in  order  to 
continue  in  a  healthy  and  vigorous  condition.  Children 
deprived  of  the  material  for  mental  activity  suffer  from 
tedium,  which  may  be  viewed  as  a  symptom  that  the  mind 
and  brain  are  in  need  of  exercise.  Many  children  have 
become  happier  and  healthier  after  entering  on  school-life, 
and  this  not  merely  because  the  school  supplied  healthier 
physical  surroundings,  but  also  because  it  supplied  a 
healthier  regime  for  the  brain.  To  this  is  to  be  added  that, 
as  already  pointed  out,  the  brain,  like  other  organs,  grows 
stronger  by  exercise,  and  within  certain  limits  it  is  per- 
fectly safe  to  carry  on  a  progressively  increasing  stimula- 
tion of  the  organ. 

Remission  and  Variation  of  Brain-Exercise. — 
The  great  danger,  especially  with  young  children,  is  that 
of  unduly  prolonging  the  duration  of  the  mental  strain  at 
one  time.  A  short  exertion  even  of  great  severity  is  in- 
nocuous, whereas  an  unbroken  application  of  mind  to  a 
difficult  subject  for  half  an  hour  or  more  may  be  injurious. 
One  of  the  greatest  improvements  in  modern  educational 

*  On  the  injurious  effects  of  excessive  stimulation  of  the  brain  in 
retarding  bodily  growth,  see  Herbert  Spencer,  •'  Education,"  chap,  iv, 
p.  165,  and  following. 


32 


MIND  AND  BODY. 


methods,  considered  both  from  a  hygienic  point  of  view 
and  from  that  of  mental  efficiency  itself,  is  the  substitution 
of  short  for  long  lessons,  and  the  frequent  alternation  of 
mental  and  bodily  exercise.  These  breaks,  though,  in  ap- 
pearance, occasioning  a  loss  of  time  and  adding  to  the 
teacher's  labors  in  restoring  order  and  recalling  the  pupil's 
minds  to  the  calm  attitude  of  attention,  are  in  reality  a 
true  economy  of  time  and  force. 

Since  the  brain  is  a  complicated  group  of  structures,  it 
is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  different  regions  are  specially 
engaged  in  different  kinds  of  mental  activity.  And  mod- 
ern science,  while  rejecting  the  definite  mapping  out  of 
the  brain  functions  proposed  by  the  phrenologists,  is  dis- 
tinctly  tending  toward  a  new  and  carefully  verified  theory 
of  localization  of  function.  Adopting  this  view  of  brain- 
action  as  engaging  special  centers  at  different  times,  we 
may  see  that  the  due  variation  of  school  subject  owes  a 
part  of  its  value  at  least  to  the  circumstance  that  it  fulfills 
in  a  subordinate  manner  the  purpose  of  brain-rest.  Thus, 
by  passing  from  an  object  lesson  to  a  singing  lesson,  the 
centers  of  vision  are  put  into  a  condition  of  comparative 
rest,  while  other  centers,  the  auditory  and  vocal,  which 
have  been  recuperating,  are  called  into  play.  And  as  sci- 
ence enables  us  to  localize  the  brain  functions  more  ex- 
actly, the  theory  of  education  will  probably  receive  from 
it  further  guidance  as  to  the  best  way  of  varying  school 
exercises. 

Differences  of  Brain-Power. — The  educator  should 
bear  in  mind  that  children  are  endowed  with  very  unequal 
cerebral  capacity.  The  whole  sum  of  vital  force  is  a  dif- 
ferent one  in  the  case  of  different  children,  and  the  dis- 
tribution of  this  among  the  several  organs  is  also  different. 
Hence,  an  amount  of  mental  exercise  that  would  be  quite 
safe  in  one  case  would  be  harmful  in  another.  The  indi- 
vidual co-efficient  of  brain-power  is  the  limit  set  by  nature 
to  the  teacher's  efforts,  and  he  can  not  afford  to  ignore  it. 


DIFFERENCES   OF  BRAIN-POWER.  33 

This  co-efficient  determines  the  amount  of  mental  reaction 
to  external  stimulus.  Just  as  one  and  the  same  physical 
stimulus  will  evoke  very  unequal  amounts  of  muscular  ac- 
tivity in  the  case  of  a  vigorous  and  a  feeble  body,  so  the 
same  quantity  of  intellectual  stimulus  will  call  forth  very 
unlike  mental  reactions  in  the  case  of  a  robust  and  a 
weakly  brain.  This  varying  co-efficient  of  brain-power  is 
seen  very  distinctly  in  the  different  rates  of  mental  work 
of  different  children.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the 
whole  range  of  mental  acquisition  is  in  each  case  fixed 
from  the  first  by  the  child's  cerebral  capacity. 

APPENDIX. 

The  connection  of  body  and  mind  is  handled  by  Dr.  Bastian,  "The 
Brain  as  an  Organ  of  Mind"  ;  Dr.  Maudsley,  "The  Physiology  of 
Mind  "  ;  and  Dr.  Bain,  "  Mind  and  Body."  The  educational  bearings 
of  the  subject  are  brought  out  in  Dr.  A.  Combe's  "  Principles  of  Physi- 
ology" ;  in  Mr.  Spencer's  "Education,"  chap,  iv  ;  Dr.  Bain's  "Educa- 
tion as  a  Science,"  chap,  ii ;  and  in  a  number  of  recent  publications 
on  Physical  Education.  See  especially  the  essay  on  "  Education  and 
the  Nervous  System,"  by  Sir  J.  Crichton  Browne,  in  "The  Book  of 
Health." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

KNOWING,    FEELING,    AND    WILLING. 

Mental   Phenomena  and  Operations.— As  was 

pointed  out  above,  mental  science  consists  of  an  orderly- 
arrangement  of  the  general  truths,  or  laws  which  relate  to 
mental  phenomena.  In  order  to  arrive  at  these  truths,  we 
have  first  to  ascertain  what  our  phenomena  are,  and  to 
arrange  them  in  general  groups  or  classes,  based  on  funda- 
mental poiiits  of  likeness. 

Mental  phenomena  are  known  by  different  names. 
They  are  commonly  called  states  of  mind,  or  states  of 
consciousness.  Since,  however,  they  are  phenomena  in 
time,  having  a  certain  duration  and  a  succession  of  parts, 
they  are  just  as  often  spoken  of  as  mental  processes  or 
operations.  It  is  important,  further,  to  distinguish  be- 
tween a  mental  process  or  operation  and  its  result  or  prod- 
uct. Thus  we  distinguish  between  a  process  of  percep- 
tion, and  its  result,  a  percept ;  a  process  of  association  and 
suggestion,  and  its  product,  a  recollection  ;  between  an 
operation  called  reasoning  and  its  result,  rational  convic- 
tion, and  so  forth. 

Classification  of  Mental  Operations.— If  we  com- 
pare our  mental  states  at  different  times,  we  find  them 
presenting  very  different  characters.  Sometimes  we  de- 
scribe ourselves  as  experiencing /ee/ings  of  joy,  grief,  etc., 
at  other  times  as  thinking  about  a  matter,  and  so  forth. 
And,  if  we  look  more  closely  at  the  contents  of  our  mind 


THREE  ASPECTS  OF  MIND. 


35 


at  one  and  the  same  time,  we  are  commonly  able  to  dis- 
tinguish between  different  ingredients,  as  emotions,  recol- 
lections, desires. 

Common  thought  has  long  since  distinguished  between 
different  classes  or  varieties  of  mental  operation.  Scien- 
tific research  carries  this  process  further,  and  seeks  to 
reach  the  most  fundamental  differences  among  our  mental 
operations.  -  This  is  commonly  described  as  dividing  mind 
into  its  fundamental  functions,  and  also  as  analyzing  it 
into  its  elements. 

If  we  examine  the  every-day  distinctions  of  popular 
psychology,  we  find  that  there  are  three  fairly  clear  divis- 
ions which  do  not  seem  to  have  anything  in  common  be- 
yond being  all  modes  of  mental  activity.  Thus  we  ordi- 
narily describe  such  activities  as  perceiving,  remembering, 
and  reasoning,  as  intellectual  operations.  So,  again,  we 
bring  sorrow,  joy,  love,  anger,  and  so  on,  under. the  general 
description  of  feeling  or  emotion.  And,  finally,  we  gather 
up  operations  like  purposing,  deliberating,  doing  things, 
under  the  head  of  will.  We  broadly  mark  off  these  three 
sides  of  mind,  and  talk  of  men  as  exhibiting  now  one  and 
now  another  aspect. 

Feeling,  Knowing,  and  Willing. — Mental  science 
adopts  this  three-fold  division,  (i)  Under  Feeling  we 
include  all  pleasurable  and  painful  conditions  of  mind. 
These  may  be  very  simple  feelings,  having  definite  bodily 
causes,  such  as  the  painful  sensations  of  hunger  and  thirst, 
or  the  pleasures  of  the  palate.  Or  they  may  be  of  a  more 
complex  nature,  such  as  love,  or  remorse.  (2)  Knowing, 
again,  includes  all  operations  which  are  directly  involved 
in  gaining  knowledge,  as,  for  example,  observing  what  is 
present  to  the  senses,  recalling  the  past,  and  reasoning. 
(3)  Finally,  Willing  or  Acting  covers  all  active  mental 
operations,  all  our  conscious  doings,  such  as  walking, 
speaking,  attending  to  things,  together  with  efforts  to  do 
things,  active  impulses  and  resolutions.     The  perfect  type 


36        KNOWING,  FEELING,   AND    WILLING. 

of  action  is  doing  something  for  an  end  or  purpose  ;  and 
this  is  what  we  ordinarily  mean  by  a  voluntary  action. 

Opposition  between  Knowing-,  Feeling,  and 
"Willing.  —  These  three  kinds  of  mental  state  are,  as 
we  have  seen,  in  general  clearly  marked  off  one  from 
another.  A  child  in  a  state  of  strong  emotional  excite- 
ment contrasts  with  a  child  calmly  thinking  about  some- 
thing, or  another  child  exerting  his  active  powers  in  doing 
something.  If  we  take  any  one  of  these  aspects  of  mind 
in  a  well-marked  form,  we  see  that  it  is  opposed  to  the 
other  aspects.  Thus  strong  feeling  is  opposed  to  and 
precludes  at  the  time  calm  thinking  (recollecting,  reason- 
ing), as  well  as  regulited  action  (will).  Similarly,  the 
intellectual  state  of  remembering  or  reasoning  when  fully 
developed  at  the  moment  is  opposed  to  feeling  and  to 
doing.  The  mind  can  not  exhibit  each  variety  of  function 
in  a  marked  degree  at  the  same  time. 

This  opposition  may  be  seen  in  another  way.  If  we 
compare,  not  different  states  of  the  same  mind,  but  differ- 
ent minds  as  a  whole,  we  often  find  now  one  kind  of 
mental  state  or  operation,  now  another  in  the  ascendant. 
Minds  marked  by  much  feeling  (sensitive,  emotional  na- 
tures) commonly  manifest  less  of  the  intellectual  and  voli- 
tional aspects  or  properties.  Similarly,  minds  of  a  high 
degree  of  intellectual  capability  (inquiring  or  inquisitive 
minds),  or  of  much  active  endowment  (active  minds),  are 
as  a  rule  relatively  weak  in  the  other  kinds  of  endowment. 

It  follows  from  this  that  the  training  of  the  mind  in 
any  one  of  its  three  functions  is  to  some  extent  a  separate 
matter.  Thus,* intellectual  education  has  its  separate  end, 
viz.,  the  production  of  a  quick,  unerring  intelligence, 
which  end  involves  no  proportionate  development  of  the 
feelings  or  of  the  will. 

Connection  between  Knowing-,  Feeling,  and 
Willing. — Yet  while  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing  are 
thus  broadly  marked  off  from,  and  even  opposed  to,  one 


CONNECTION  OF   THESE  ACTIVITIES.       37 

another,  they  are  in  another  way  closely  connected.  A 
mind  is  not  a  material  object  which  can  be  separated  into 
distinct  parts,  but  an  organic  unity  made  up  of  parts 
standing  in  the  closest  relation  of  interdependence.  If 
we  closely  examine  any  case  of  feeling,  we  are  sure  to  find 
some  intellectual  and  volitional  accompaniments.  Thus 
when  we  experience  a  bodily  pain  (feeling),  we  instantly 
localize  the  pain  or  recognize  its  seat  (knowledge),  and 
endeavor  to  alleviate  it  (volition).  Most  of  our  feelings, 
as  we  shall  see,  are  wrapped  up  with  or  embodied  in  intel- 
lectual states  (perceiving,  remembering,  etc.).  Again, 
intellectual  operations,  observing,  thinking,  etc.,  are  com- 
monly accompanied  by  some  shade  of  agreeable  or  dis- 
agreeable feeling,  and  they  always  involve  voluntary  ac- 
tivity in  the  shape  of  attention  or  concentration  of  mind. 
Finally,  willing  depends  on  feeling  for  its  motive  or  im- 
pelling force, 'and  on  knowledge  for  its  illumination  or 
guidance. 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  that  our  threefold  division  of 
mind  is  a  division  according  to  the  fundamentally  distinct 
aspects  which  predominate  at  different  times.  Thus  by 
intellectual  states  or  processes  we  mean  those  modes  of 
mental  activity  in  which  the  cognitive  function  is  most 
marked  and  prominent. 

This  fact  of  the  invariable  concomitance  of  the  three 
mental  functions  is  of  capital  importance  to  the  teacher. 
Misled  by  our  habits  of  analysis,  and  our  abstract  ways  of 
thinking,  we  are  apt  to  suppose  that  in  training  the  intel- 
lectual faculties  we  may  disregard  the  emotional  and  voli- 
tional element  altogether.  But  a  deeper  insight  into  the 
organic  unity  of  mind  corrects  this  error.  One  great  law 
governing  our  intellectual  activity  is  that  we  attend  to 
what  interests  us,  that  is,  to  what  excites  feeling  in  some 
way  and,  through  this,  arouses  the  energies  of  the  will. 
And  just  as  educators  have  sometimes  failed  to  make  the 
best  of  children's  intellectual  powers,  by  overlooking  the 


38       KNOWING,  FEELING,  AND    WILLING^ 

necessary  accompaniments  of  feeling  and  will,  so  they 
have  failed  to  develop  the  highest  type  of  will  and  char- 
acter, because  they  have  not  recognized  the  dependence 
of  this  on  a  certain  mode  of  intelligence,  and  on  the  de- 
velopment of  particular  emotions. 

Species  of  Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing : 
Mental  Faculties. — Popular  psychology  recognizes  cer- 
tain divisions  or  species  of  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing 
under  the  head  of  faculties,  capabilities,  or  powers.  More 
particularly  we  speak  of  intellectual  faculties  such  as 
perception  and  imagination  ;  emotional  capacities^  or  sus- 
ceptibilities, as  love,  anger  ;  and  2i(i\SNQ  powers  and  dispo- 
sitions, such  as  movement,  choice,  industry. 

These  distinctions  are  valid  so  far  as  they  go.  The 
psychologist  allows  that  perceiving  and  remembering  differ 
in  certain  important  respects.  The  first  operation  con- 
tains elements  (e.  g.,  actual  sense-impressions)  which  the 
second  does  not  contain.  Thus  there  is  a  real  psychologi- 
cal distinction  involved,  and  the  psychologist  will  find  it 
here  as  elsewhere  convenient  to  make  this  popularly  recog- 
nized distinction  the  starting-point  in  a  scientific  treatment 
of  the  phenomena  of  mind. 

In  adopting  these  popular  distinctions,  however,  the 
psychologist  must  not  be  taken  to  imply  that  the  several 
processes  of  perceiving,  remembering,  etc.,  are  distinct  one 
from  the  other  fundamentally,  that  is  to  say,  with  respect 
to  their  elementary  parts.  While  we  set  out  with  these 
well-marked  divisions  of  faculty,  we  seek  to  discover  by  a 
deeper  psychological  analysis  certain  more  fundamental 
or  primary  distinctions,  and  to  regard  such  differences 
as  those  between  perceiving  and  remembering  as  second- 
ary. 

Primary  Intellectual  Functions. —  The  essential 
operation  in  all  varieties  of  knowing  is  the  detecting  of 
relations  between  things.  I  know  a  tree,  a  period  of 
English  history,  a  demonstration  in  Euclid,  when  I  know 


INDIVIDUAL  DIFFERENCES. 


39 


its  several  parts  in  relation  one  to  another,  and  also  its 
relations  as  a  whole  to  other  things.  The  most  compre- 
hensive relations  are  difference  or  unlikeness  and  agree- 
ment or  likeness.  All  knowing  means  discriminating  one 
impression,  object,  or  idea  from  another  (or  others),  and 
assimilating  it  to  yet  another  (or  others).  I  perceive  an 
object  as  a  rose  only  when  I  distinguish  its  several  parts 
and  features  one  from  another  ;  and  when,  further,  I  see 
how  it  differs  from  other  objects,  and  more  especially 
other  varieties  of  flower,  and  at  the  same  time  recognize 
its  likeness  to  other  roses  previously  seen.  And  so  of 
other  forms  of  knowing.  Hence,  discrimination  and  as- 
similation may  be  viewed  as  the  primary  functions  of 
intellect. 

While  these  two  primary  functions  constitute  the  main  factor 
in  intellectual  operations,  the  exercise  of  them  presupposes  other 
capabilities.  Thus  the  power  of  taking  apart  the  objects  presented 
to  the  mind,  and  confining  the  attention  to  certain  details  or  particu- 
lars (analysis),  together  with  the  supplementary  power  of  mentally 
grasping  a  number  of  objects  together  at  the  same  time  (synthesis),  is 
clearly  implied  in  all  knowing.  This  power  will  be  dealt  with  under 
the  head  of  attention.  In  addition  to  this,  there  is  the  mind's  capaci- 
ty of  retention,  that  is,  of  conserving  past  impressions  and  recalling 
them  for  future  use.  Unless  we  could  thus  retain  impressions,  we 
should  be  unable  to  bring  together  before  ihe  mind  facts  lying  in 
different  regions  of  our  experience,  and  so  discover  their  relations. 
Moreover,  the  abiding  knowledge  of  any  subject  plainly  implies  the  re- 
tention of  what  we  have  learned. 

Individual  Differences  of  Mental  Capability. — 

The  several  mental  operations  do  not  present  themselves 
in  precisely  the  same  manner  in  all  minds.  They  vary 
in  certain  respects,  and  these  variations  are  referred  to 
differences  of  mental  power  or  capacity.  Now,  as  we 
have  seen,  psychology  as  science  has  to  do  with  the  gen- 
eral facts  and  truths  of  mind.  It  takes  no  account  of 
individual  peculiarities.  Nevertheless,  the  practical  im- 
portance of  estimating  individual  differences  has  led  psy- 


40        KNOWING,  FEELING,  AND    WILLING. 

chologists  to  pay  considerable  attention  to  this  concrete 
branch  of  their  subject.  And  the  foregoing  analysis  of 
mental  functions  prepares  the  way  for  a  scientific  classifi- 
cation of  individual  differences.  ^ 

There  are  different  ways  in  which  individual  minds 
vary.  Thus,  one  mind  may  differ  from  another  in  respect 
of  one  whole  phase  or  side.  For  example,  we  speak  of  one 
child  as  more  intellectual  or  more  inquiring  than  another. 
Similarly,  one  child  is  said  to  have  more  emotional  sus- 
ceptibility or  more  active  impulse  or  will  than  another. 

Again,  we  may  make  our  comparison  more  narrow, 
and  observe  how  one  mind  differs  from  another  with  re- 
spect to  a  special  mode  of  intellectual  (or  other)  activity. 
Thus,  to  find  that  individuals  vary  in  respect  of  one  of  the 
primary  intellectual  functions,  that  one  has  a  finer  sense 
of  difference  or  a  keener  sense  of  resemblance  than  an- 
other. Or,  once  more,  we  may  note  and  record  differ- 
ences in  the  strength  of  some  particular  faculty,  as  obser- 
vation, or  reason.  Or,  lastly,  we  may  distinguish  yet 
more  narrowly,  comparing  individuals  with  respect  to 
some  special  mode  of  operation  of  a  faculty,  as  perception 
of  form,  or  memory  for  words. 

In  like  manner  we  can  distinguish  between  different 
degrees  of  strength  of  a  special  emotion,  as  anger  or  affec- 
tion, or  of  a  particular  active  endowment,  as  endurance. 

All  the  innumerable  differences  which  characterize  in- 
dividual minds  must  ultimately  resolve  themselves  into 
these  modes.  The  problem  of  measuring  these  individual 
differences  with  something  like  scientific  exactness  will 
occupy  us  later  on. 

Truths  or  Laws  of  Mind. — The  classification  of 
mental  states  prepares  the  way  for  ascertaining  the  gen- 
eral truths  of  mind.  The  most  comprehensive  of  these 
truths  are  known  as  laws  of  mind.  These  laws  aim  at 
setting  forth  in  the  most  general  form  the  way  in  which 
mental  states  are  connected  one  with  another,  and  particu- 


CONDITIONS  OF  MENTAL   ACTIVITY.        41 

larly  the  way  in  which  they  succeed,  and  act  upon  one  an- 
other. The  law  that  governs  any  mental  operation  unfolds 
the  circumstances  necessary  to  its  accomplishment,  in 
other  words,  its  causal  antecedents  or  conditions.  It  thus 
helps  us  to  explain  or  account  for  the  operation  in  any 
particular  case. 

Here,  too,  mental  science  is  seeking  to  improve  on  pop- 
ular psychology  ;  for  observation  has  long  since  taught 
men  that  mental  products,  such  as  knowledge  and  charac- 
ter, presuppose  certain  antecedent  circumstances  and  in- 
fluences. This  is  seen  in  the  common  sayings  about  mind 
and  character,  such  as  "  Experience  is  the  best  teacher," 
"  Love  is  blind,"  "  First  impressions  last  longest,"  etc. 

General  Conditions  of  Mental  Activity.— Some 
of  these  laws  of  mind  embody  the  general  conditions  of 
mental  operations,  whether  those  of  feeling,  knowing,  or 
willing.  Reference  has  already  been  made  to  the  com- 
mon physiological  conditions  of  mental  operations,  viz.,  a 
vigorous  state  of  the  brain,  etc.  Among  general  mental 
conditions,  attention  is  by  far  the  most  important.  Atten- 
tion is  presupposed  alike  in  all  clear  knowing,  vivid  feel- 
ing, and  energetic  willing.  The  laws  of  attention,  to  be 
spoken  of  presently,  are  thus  in  a  manner  laws  of  mind  as 
a  whole. 

Conditions  of  Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing. 
— Next  to  these  universal  conditions,  there  are  the  more 
special  ones  of  knowing,  of  feeling,  and  of  willing.  Thus 
the  laws  of  mental  reproduction,  or  the  revival  of  impres- 
sions, are  in  a  peculiar  manner  laws  of  intellect.  Similar- 
ly, there  are  laws  of  feeling  which  seek  to  formulate  the 
conditions  of  pleasure  and  pain,  as  well  as  the  effects  of 
feeling  on  the  thoughts  and  beliefs.  Finally,  we  have 
special  laws  of  willing,  as,  for  example,  that  action  varies 
with  the  intensity  of  motive  force  applied,  that  proximate 
satisfactions  excite  the  will  more  powerfully  than  remote 
ones.     It  is  to  be  added  that  in  assigning  the  special  con- 


42        KNOWING,   FEELING,  AND    WILLING. 

ditions  of  feeling,  knowing,  and  willing,  we  should  refer 
to  the  particular  nervous  structures  engaged,  so  far  as 
these  are  known. 

As  truths  of  mind  still  more  special,  we  have  the  enu- 
meration of  the  several  conditions  of  a  particular  variety  of 
operation,  such  as  the  intellectual  act  of  observation  or 
imagination.  This  gives  us  the  law  of  operation  of  that 
particular  faculty.  Thus  we  explain  or  account  for  ob- 
servation by  specifying  its  conditions,  external  and  internal, 
such  as  the  favorable  position  of  the  object,  some  special 
interest  in  it,  etc.  Here,  too,  we  must  include  in  our  sur- 
vey the  regions  of  the  nervous  system  specially  engaged. 

As  already  observed,  this  enumeration  of  co-operating 
conditions  must  in  certain  cases  embrace  remote  as  well 
as  immediate  antecedents.  Thus,  to  account  for  a  recol- 
lection, we  need  to  refer  not  only  to  the  suggestive  forces 
acting  at  the  time,  but  also  to  the  influence  of  past  ex- 
perience in  associating  that  which  suggests  with  that  which 
it  suggests. 

For  a  complete  understanding  of  the  way  in  which  any 
variety  of  mental  product  arises,  we  need  to  take  into  ac- 
count the  action  of  the  whole  mental  state  at  the  time,  so 
far  as  it  is  favorable  or  unfavorable.  Thus,  calmness  of 
mind,  freedom  from  emotional  excitement,  and  preoccu- 
pation of  the  attention,  is  an  important  negative  condition 
of  the  more  difficult  intellectual  processes. 

Finally,  among  the  conditions  of  a  perfect  discharge 
of  any  mental  function  we  presuppose  a  mind  in  which 
this  power  is  strong  and  well  developed.  And  it  is  often 
well  to  specify  this.  Thus,  in  setting  forth  the  conditions 
of  retention  under  any  of  its  forms,  such  as  the  recollection 
of  colors  or  places,  we  may  specify  a  good  natural  reten- 
tive power  in  that  particular  direction. 

Importance  of  understanding  the  Conditions  of 
Mental  Activity. — The  understanding  of  the  laws  that 
control  the  various  forms  of  mental  activity  is  a  matter  of 


KNOWLEDGE  REQUIRED  BY  THE  TEACHER.  43 

special  consequence  to  the  teacher.  As  already  observed, 
we  can  only  bring  about  any  intellectual  or  other  mental 
product  when  we  see  clearly  into  the  conditions  on  which 
it  depends.  The  educator,  in  seeking  to  exercise  some 
faculty,  say  observation,  is  coming  into  a  certain  rapport 
with  the  pupil's  mind.  This  relation  is  not  like  that  of  an 
external  mechanical  force  to  a  passive  material,  as  clay  or 
sealing-wax.  The  teacher  only  succeeds  in  doing  any- 
thing when  he  calls  forth  the  learner's  own  mental  activity. 
The  very  idea  of  stimulating  the  mind  implies  that  the 
external  agent  calls  forth  a  mental  reaction,  that  is,  ex- 
cites the  mind  to  its  appropriate  form  of  activity.  Hence, 
the  teacher  needs  to  have,  at  the  outset,  the  clearest  knowl- 
edge as  to  what  this  activity  is,  and  what  laws  it  uniformly 
obeys.  Thus,  for  example,  he  requires  to  understand  what 
the  mind  really  does  when  it  thoroughly  grasps  and  assimi- 
lates a  new  truth. 

In  the  process  of  stimulating  the  mind  the  teacher  ne- 
cessarily employs  certain  agencies,  and  it  is  of  the  greatest 
importance  that  he  rightly  understand  their  precise  effect 
in  furthering  the  mental  activity  he  would  excite.  Thus, 
in  giving  a  child  verses  to  commit  to  memory,  he  should 
know  to  what  extent  and  in  what  precise  manner  this  em- 
ployment exercises  the  memory.  And  this  he  can  only  do 
when  he  has  a  clear  scientific  insight  into  the  nature  of  the 
faculty  and  the  laws  of  its  operation.  It  is  of  great  im- 
portance, too,  that  he  should  understand  in  what  ways  his 
appliances  are  liable  to  be  counteracted  by  other  influ- 
ences, such  as  an  unfavorable  state  of  the  pupil's  mind  at 
the  moment. 

In  the  appliances  brought  to  bear  by  the  educator  there 
are  two  things  to  be  distinguished  :  first  of  all,  the  material 
supply  on  which  the  pupil's  mind  is  to  exercise  itself  ;  and, 
secondly,  the  motive  force  brought  to  bear  in  order  to  in- 
duce the  learner  to  apply  his  mind  to  the  subject.  A  wise 
choice  of  material  presupposes  a  certain  knowledge  of  the 


44        KNOWING,  FEELING,  AND    WILLING, 

intellectual  faculties,  and  the  laws  which  govern  their  op- 
eration. A  wise  selection  of  motive  presupposes  no  less 
accurate  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  that  rule  in  the  domain 
of  the  feelings  and  the  will. 

APPENDIX. 

Tlie  reader  who  desires  to  read  further  on  the  threefold  division 
of  mind  is  referred  to  ray  "  Outlines  of  Psychology,"  chap,  ii,  and  Ap- 
pendix B  ;  also,  to  the  works  of  Sir  W.  Hamilton  and  Dr.  Bain,  there 
quoted,  and  to  Dr.  Ward's  article  "  Psychology,"  in  the  "  Encyclopaedia 
Britannica." 

On  the  corresponding  divisions  of  educational  work  and  the  con- 
nections between  them,  the  reader  should  consult  Waitz,  "  Allgemeine 
Padagogik,"  §  6  ;  Dr.  F.  Dittes,  "  Grundriss  der  Erziehungs-  und 
Unterrichtslehre,"  §§  23,  24,  and  86. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MENTAL   DEVELOPMENT. 

Mental  Development  defined.—In  the  last  chapter 
we  were  concerned  with  ascertaining  the  nature  and  con- 
ditions of  the  several  kinds  of  mental  operation,  without 
any  reference  to  the  time  of  life  at  which  they  occur.  But 
mental  operations  diifer  greatly  in  different  periods  of  life, 
owing  to  what  we  call  the  growth  or  d  :velopment  of  faculty 
or  capacity.  We  have  now  to  consider  this  far-reaching 
process  of  mental  growth.  We  shall  seek  to  distinguish 
between  the  successive  stages  of  mental  life,  and  point  out 
how  these  are  related  one  to  the  other.  By  so  doing  we 
may  hope  to  account  not  merely  for  the  single  operations 
of  a  faculty,  but  for  the  mature  faculty  itself,  viewed  as 
the  result  of  a  process  of  growth.  This  part  of  our  subject 
constitutes  the  theory  of  mental  development. 

When  speaking  of  the  physical  organism,  we  distin- 
guish between  growth  and  development.  The  former  is 
mere  increase  of  size  or  bulk;  the  latter  consists  of 
structural  changes  (increase  of  complexity).  While  growth 
and  development  usually  run  on  together,  there  is  no 
proper  parallelism  between  them.  Thus,  in  abnormal 
growth,  development  is  hindered.  And  an  organ,  as  the 
brain,  may  develop  long  after  it  has  ceased  to  grow.  It  is 
possible  to  apply  this  analogy  to  mind.  We  may  say  that 
mind  grows  when  it  increases  its  stock  of  materials.  It 
develops   in  so  far  as  its  materials  are  elaborated  into 


46  MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT. 

higher  and  more  complex  forms.  Mere  growth  of  mind 
would  thus  be  illustrated  by  an  increase  in  the  bulk  of 
mental  retentions,  that  is,  in  the  contents  of  memory :  de- 
velopment, by  the  ordering  of  these  contents  in  their  re- 
lations of  difference  and  likeness,  and  so  on.  But  in 
general  the  two  terms,  mental  growth  and  mental  develop- 
ment, may  be  used  as  interchangeable. 

The  characteristics  of  mental  development  are  best 
seen  in  the  case  of  the  intellect.  The  growth  of  knowl- 
edge may  be  viewed  in  different  ways  :  (i)  Under  one 
aspect  it  is  a  gradual  progress  from  vague  to  distinct 
knowledge.  The  perceptions  and  ideas  grow  more  defi- 
nite. This  may  be  called  intellectual  differentiation.  (2) 
Again,  it  is  a  progress  from  simple  to  complex  processes. 
There  is  a  continual  grouping  or  integration  of  elements 
into  organic  compounds.  In  this  way  the  child's  knowl- 
edge of  whole  localities,  of  series  of  events,  and  so  forth, 
arises.  (3)  Once  more,  it  is  a  continual  movement  from 
external  sense  to  internal  thought  or  reflection.  Or,  as  it 
is  commonly  described,  it  is  a  transition  from  iht  prese7tta- 
tive^  or  what  is  directly  presented  to  the  mind  through 
sense,  to  the  representative^  that  which  is  indirectly  set 
before  the  mind  by  the  aid  of  internal  ideas.  (4)  Lastly, 
this  progress  from  sense  to  thought  is  a  transition  from 
the  knowledge  of  individuals  to  that  of  general  classes,  or 
from  a  knowledge  of  concrete  things  to  that  of  their  ab- 
stract qualities.* 

This  aggregate  of  changes,  which  constitutes  the  growth 
of  mind,  appears  to  resolve  itself  into  two  parts.  On  the 
one  hand  we  see  that  the  several  faculties  which  operate 
in  the  case  of  the  child  have  expanded  and  increased  in 
vigor.     On  the  other  hand  we  notice  that  new  faculties, 

*  Reference  is  made  here  only  to  knowledge  of  outer  things.  As 
will  be  seen  by-and-by,  the  growth  of  self-knowledge  illustrates  the 
same  movement  from  outer  sense  to  internal  reflection,  from  the  con- 
crete to  the  abstract. 


UNFOLDING  OF  FACULTIES,  47 

the  germs  of  which  are  hardly  discoverable  in  the  child, 
have  acquired  strength.  We  see,  that  is  to  say,  that  while 
the  faculties  have  each  grown  singly,  there  has  been  a 
certain  order  of  unfolding  among  them,  so  that  some  have 
reached  mature  vigor  before  others. 

Growth  of  Faculty. — The  growth  or  improvement 
of  a  faculty  includes  three  things,  or  may  be  regarded 
under  three  aspects  :  (i)  Old  operations  become  more 
perfect,  and  also  more  easy  and  rapid.  Thus  the  recog- 
nition of  an  individual  object,  as  a  person's  face,  as  also 
the  recalling  of  it  when  absent,  tends  to  become  more  dis- 
tinct, as  well  as  easier,  with  the  repetition  of  the  opera- 
tion. This  is  improvement  of  a  faculty  in  a  definite 
direction.  (2)  New  operations  of  a  similar  grade  of  com- 
plexity will  also  grow  easier.  Thus  the  improvement  of 
the  observing  powers  (perception)  includes  a  growing 
facility  in  noting  and  recognizing  unfamiliar  objects  ;  that 
of  memory  includes  a  greater  readiness  in  retaining  and 
recalling  new  impressions.  This  is  improvement  of  a 
faculty  generally.  (3)  This  general  improvement  is  com- 
pleted by  the  attainment  of  the  capability  of  executing 
more  complex,  intricate,  and  difficult  operations.  Thus 
the  growth  of  memory  means  the  progress  of  the  capa- 
bility as  shown  in  retaining  and  recalling  less  striking  im- 
pressions and  larger  and  more  complex  groups  of  impres- 
sions. 

Order  of  Development  of  Faculties.— One  of  the 
most  valuable  doctrines  of  modern  psychology  is  that 
there  is  a  uniform  order  of  development  of  the  faculties. 
There  is  a  well-marked  order  in  the  growth  of  intellect, 
(i)  The  process  of  attaining  knowledge  sets  out  with 
sensation,  or  the  reception  of  external  impressions  by  the 
mind.  Sense  supplies  the  materials  which  the  intellect 
assimilates  and  elaborates  according  to  its  own  laws. 
Before  we  can  know  anything  about  the  material  objects 
which  surround  us  they  must  impress  our  mind  through 


48  MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT. 

the  senses  (sight,  touch,  hearing,  etc.).  (2)  Sensation  is 
followed  by  perception,  in  which  a  number  of  impressions 
are  grouped  together  under  the  form  of  a  percept,  or  an 
immediate  apprehension  of  some  thing  or  object,  as  when 
we  see  and  recognize  an  orange  or  a  bell.  (3)  After  per- 
ception comes  representative  imagination,  in  which  the 
mind  pictures,  or  has  an  image  of,  what  has  been  per- 
ceived. It  may  represent  this  either  in  the  original  form 
(reproductive  imagination),  as  when  we  recall  the  face  of 
a  friend  ;  or  in  a  new  form  (constructive  imagination),  as 
when  we  imagine  some  historical  personage.  (4)  Finally, 
we  have  general  or  abstract  knowing,  otherwise  marked 
off  as  thinking.  This  includes  conception,  or  the  forma- 
tion of  concepts  or  general  notions  out  of  percepts  and 
images,  such  as  "metal,"  "organism,"  "life,"  and  so  on  ; 
judgment,  or  the  combination  of  concepts,  as  when  we 
assert  that  no  men  are  omniscient ;  and  reasoning,  or  the 
combination  of  judgments,  as  when  we  conclude  that  a 
particular  writer,  say  a  journalist,  is  not  omniscient,  be- 
cause no  men  are  so. 

Unity  of  Intellectual  Development.— It  has  already 
been  pointed  out  that  modern  psychology  seeks  to  reduce 
the  several  operations  of  perception,  imagination,  etc.,  to 
certain  fundamental  processes,  of  which  discrimination 
and  assimilation  are  the  most  important.  By  help  of  this 
deeper  analysis  of  intellectual  activity  we  are  able  to  re- 
gard the  successive  unfoldings  of  the  faculties  as  one  con- 
tinuous process.  The  higher  and  more  complex  opera- 
tions of  thought  now  appear  as  only  different  modes  of 
the  same  fundamental  functions  of  intellect  that  underlie 
the  lower  and  simpler  operations  of  sense-perception. 
Thus  the  simplest  germ  of  knowing  involves  the  discrimi- 
nation of  sense-impression  ;  and  the  highest  form  of  know- 
ing, abstract  thinking,  is  a  higher  manifestation  of  the 
same  power.  Again,  the  perception  of  a  single  object  is  a 
process  of  assimilating  present  to  past  impressions ;  and 


STRENGTHENING  OF  FACULTY. 


49 


abstract  thinking  is  assimilating  or  classing  many  objects 
under  certain  common  aspects.  We  may  thus  say  that 
the  several  stages  of  knowing,  viz.,  perception,  conception, 
and  so  on,  illustrate  the  same  fundamental  activities  of 
intellect  employed  about  more  and  more  complex  mate- 
rials (sensations,  percepts,  ideas,  etc.). 

We  thus  see  that  there  are  no  breaks  in  the  process  of 
intellectual  development.  It  is  one  continuous  process, 
from  its  simplest  to  its  most  complex  phase.  The  distinc- 
tions between  perception,  imagination,  etc.,  though  of  great 
practical  convenience,  as  roughly  marking  the  successive 
stages  of  growth,  must  not  be  taken  as  answering  to  sharp 
divisions.  The  movement  of  intellectual  progress  is  not 
a  series  of  separate  leaps,  but  one  unbroken  and  even 
movement. 

Growth  and  Exercise  of  Faculty.— The  great  law 
underlying  these  processes  of  development  is  that  the 
faculties  or  functions  of  intellect  are  strengthened  by  ex- 
ercise. Thus  the  power  of  observation  (perception),  of 
detecting  differences  among  colors,  forms,  and  so  on,  im- 
proves by  the  repeated  exercise  of  this  power.  Each  suc- 
cessive operation  tends  to  improve  the  faculty,  and  more 
particularly  in  the  particular  direction  in  which  it  is  exer- 
cised. Thus,  if  the  power  of  observation  is  exercised  with 
respect  to  colors,  it  will  be  strengthened  more  especially 
in  this  direction,  but  not  to  the  same  extent  in  other  di- 
rections, e.  g.,  with  respect  to  forms. 

Again,  since  perception,  conception,  and  so  forth,  are 
only  different  modes  of  the  same  intellectual  functions,  the 
exercise  of  these  in  the  lower  form  prepares  the  way  for 
the  higher  manifestations.  Thus,  in  training  the  senses, 
we  are  calling  into  play  the  power  of  analyzing  a  complex 
whole  into  its  parts,  also  the  functions  of  discrimination 
and  assimilation,  and  so  are  laying  the  foundations  of  the 
higher  intellectual  culture.  On  the  other  hand,  we  must 
not  suppose  that  by  merely  exercising  the  observing  powers 


50  MENTAL   DEVELOPMENT, 

we  can  secure  a  development  of  the  powers  of  abstract 
thought.  In  order  that  the  successive  phases  of  intelli- 
gence may  unfold  themselves,  the  separate  exercise  of  the 
fundamental  functions  in  each  of  these  phases  is  necessary. 
That  is  to  say,  we  require  a  special  training  for  each  of  the 
faculties  in  due  order. 

Growth  and  Retentiveness. — This  growth  of  intel- 
lect by  exercise  implies  retentiveness.  By  this  term,  in  its 
widest  signification,  is  meant  that  every  operation  of  mind 
leaves  a  trace  behind  it,  which  constitutes  a  disposition  to 
perforai  the  same  operation  or  same  kind  of  operation 
again.  This  truth  obviously  underlies  the  generalization, 
"  Exercise  strengthens  faculty."  The  increased  power  of 
observation,  for  example,  due  to  repeated  exercises  of  the 
faculty,  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  saying  that  each 
successive  exercise  modifies  the  mind,  adding  to  its  capa- 
bility of  acting,  and  strengthening  its  tendency  to  act  in 
that  particular  mode. 

Growth  and  Habit. — This  persistence  of  traces,  and 
formation  of  a  disposition  to  think,  feel,  etc.,  in  the  same 
way  as  before  underlies  what  we  call  habit.  By  this  term, 
in  its  most  comprehensive  sense,  is  meant  a  fixed  tendency 
to  think,  feel,  or  act  in  a  particular  way  under  special  cir- 
cumstances. The  formation  of  habits  is  a  very  important 
ingredient  of  what  we  mean  by  intellectual  development ; 
but  it  is  not  all  that  is  so  meant.  Habit  refers  rather  to 
the  fixing  of  mental  operations  in  particular  directions. 
Taken  in  this  narrow  sense,  habit  is  in  a  manner  opposed 
to  growth.  By  following  out  a  train  of  ideas  again  and 
again  in  a  certain  way,  we  lose  the  capability  of  varying 
this  order,  of  re-adapting  the  combination  to  new  circum- 
stances. Habit  is  thus  the  element  of  persistence,  of  cus- 
tom, the  conservative  tendency;  whereas  growth  implies 
flexibility,  modifiability,  susceptibility  to  new  impressions, 
\h^  progressive  tendency.  We  shall  again  and  again  have 
to  distinguish  between  the  effect  of  habit,  as  understood  in 


GROUPING  OF  PARTS,  5 1 

this  narrow  sense,  and  development  in  the  full  sense,  as  a 
wide  or  many-sided  progress.  The  importance  of  the 
principle  of  habit  will  be  illustrated  more  especially  in  the 
domain  of  action.* 

In  order  that  the  intellectual  powers  as  a  whole  may  be 
exercised  and  grow,  a  higher  form  of  retentiveness  is 
needed.  The  traces  of  the  products  of  intellectual  activity 
must  accumulate  and  appear  under  the  form  of  revivals  or 
reproductions.  The  impressions  of  sense,  when  discrimi- 
nated, are  in  this  way  recalled  as  mental  images.  This 
retention  and  revival  of  the  products  of  the  early  sense- 
discrimination  is  clearly  necessary  to  the  higher  operations 
of  thought.  Images,  though  the  product  of  elementary 
processes  of  discrimination  and  assimilation,  supply  in 
their  turn  the  material  for  the  more  elaborate  processes  of 
thought.  We  thus  see  that  the  growing  complexity  of  the 
intellectual  life  depends  on  the  accumulation  of  innumer- 
able traces  of  past  and  simpler  products  of  intellectual 
activity. 

Grouping  of  Parts:  Laws  of  Association. — 
Closely  connected  with  this  fundamental  property  of  re- 
tentiveness, there  is  another  involved  in  this  process  of 
intellectual  development.  The  growth  of  intellect,  as  we 
have  seen,  leads  to  an  increasing  complexity  of  the  prod- 
ucts. This  means  that  the  several  elements  are  com- 
bined or  grouped  in  certain  ways.  This  grouping  goes  on 
according  to  the  laws  of  association.  These  laws  will  be 
fully  discussed  by-and-by.  Here  it  is  enough  to  say  that 
there  are  two   principal  modes  of    grouping,  and  corre- 

*  The  term  habit  is  commonly  confined  to  actions  which  have  grown 
customary,  and  so  mechanical.  But  the  principle  of  habit  is  illustrated 
in  each  of  the  three  directions  of  mental  development.  Some  writers 
distinguish  between  passive  habits,  the  effects  of  custom  on  feeling,  and 
active  habits,  its  effects  on  action.  In  connection  with  education,  Locke 
uses  the  term  habit  generally  as  expressing  the  result  of  practice.  See 
"Thoughts  concerning  Education,"  edited  by  Rev,  R.  H.  Quick;  In- 
troduction, p.  liv. 
5 


52  MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT. 

spending  laws  of  association  of  mental  elements,  (a) 
according  to  their  nearness  or  contiguity  in  time,  and  (^) 
according  to  their  similarity.  The  first  mode  will  be  the 
one  principally  illustrated  in  the  earlier  stages  of  develop- 
ment (perception  and  imagination) ;  the  second,  the  one 
mainly  concerned  in  the  later  stages  (thought). 

Development  of  Feeling  and  Willing. — While,  for 
the  sake  of  simplicity,  we  have  confined  our  attention  to 
the  development  of  intellect,  it  is  necessary  to  add  that  the 
same  features  and  the  same  underlying  principles  are  dis- 
coverable in  the  growth  of  feeling  and  will.  The  earlier 
feelings  (bodily  pleasures  and  pains)  are  simple  and 
closely  connected  with  the  senses  :  the  higher  feelings 
(emotions)  are  complex  and  representative  in  character. 
Again,  the  first  actions  (bodily  movements)  are  simple  and 
external,  being  immediate  responses  to  sense-impressions, 
whereas  the  later  are  complex,  internal  and  representative 
(choosing,  resolving,  etc.).  It  Avill  be  found,  further,  that 
there  is  a  continuity  of  process  throughout  the  develop- 
ment of  each.  And  the  same  laws  or  conditions,  growth 
by  exercise,  retentiveness  and  association,  are  illustrated 
here  as  in  the  case  of  intellectual  development. 

Interdependence  of  Processes. — We  have  so  far 
viewed  the  growth  of  intellect,  of  feeling,  and  of  volition  as 
processes  going  on  apart,  independently  of  one  another. 
And  this  is  in  a  measure  a  correct  assumption.  It  has, 
however,  already  been  pointed  out  that  mind  is  an  organic 
unity,  and  that  the  processes  of  knowing,  feeling,  and  will- 
ing in  a  measure  involve  one  another.  It  follows  from  this 
that  the  developments  of  these  phases  of  mind  will  be 
closely  connected.  Thus,  intellectual  development  presup- 
poses a  certain  measure  of  emotional  and  volitional  devel- 
opment. There  would  be  no  attainments  in  knowledge  if 
the  connected  interest  (curiosity,  love  of  knowledge)  and 
active  impulses  (concentration,  application)  had  not  been 
developed.     Similarly,  there  can  be  no  development  of  the 


GROWTH  AND  DEVELOPMENT.  53 

life  of  feeling  without  a  considerable  accumulation  of 
knowledge  about  Nature  and  man  ;  nor  can  there  be 
any  development  of  action  without  a  development  of  feel- 
ing and  the  accumulation  of  a  store  of  practical  knowl- 
edge. The  mind  may  develop  much  more  on  one  side 
than  on  the  others,  but  development  on  one  side  without 
any  development  on  the  others  is  an  impossibility. 

This  connectedness  of  one  side  of  development  with 
the  others  may  be  illustrated  in  the  close  dependence  of 
intellectual  growth  on  the  exercise  and  improvement  of 
the  power  of  attention.  Though  related  to  the  active  or 
volitional  side  of  mind,  attention  is  a  prime  condition  of 
intellectual  operations.  Mental  activity  includes  in  every 
case  some  form  of  attention  ;  and  the  higher  kinds  of 
mental  activity  illustrate  the  full  exercise  of  the  will  in 
the  shape  of  an  effort  of  concentration.  This  being  so, ' 
intellectual  growth,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  is  the  imme- 
diate outcome  of  mental  activity,  is  closely  dependent  on 
the  development  of  will.  It  is  the  improvement  of  the 
power  of  voluntary  concentration  which  makes  success- 
ively possible  accurate  observation,  steady  reproduction, 
and  all  that  we  mean  by  thinking. 

This  dependence  of  one  phase  of  mental  development 
on  the  other  phases  is  not,  however,  equally  close  in  all 
cases.  Thus  the  growth  of  knowing  involves  compara- 
tively little  of  the  emotional  and  volitional  element.  The 
growth  of  feeling  in  its  higher  forms  involves  considerable 
intellectual  development,  but  no  corresponding  degree  of 
volitional  development.  Finally,  the  growth  of  will  is 
largely  dependent  on  that  of  knowing  and  feeling.  Hence, 
in  the  order  of  exposition,  we  set  out  with  the  development 
of  knowing,  passing  then  to  that  of  feeling,  and  finally  to 
that  of  willing. 

Growth  and  Development  of  the  Brain.— Just  as, 
in  studying  mental  operations  at  a  particular  time,  we 
have  to  include  in  our  view  nervous  concomitants,  so  in 


54  MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT, 

studying  mental  de/elopment  we  must  ask  what  changes 
in  the  nervous  organism,  and  more  particularly  in  the 
brain-centers,  accompany  these  psychical  changes. 

The  brain,  like  all  other  parts  of  the  organism,  grows  in 
bulk  or  size,  and  develops  or  manifests  certain  changes  in 
its  formation  or  structure,  viz. :  increasing  unlikeness  of 
parts  and  intricacy  of  arrangements  among  these.  The 
two  processes,  growth  and  development,  do  not  progress 
with  the  same  degree  of  rapidity.  The  size  nearly  attains 
its  maximum  about  the  end  of  the  seventh  year,  whereas 
the  degree  of  structural  development  reached  at  this  time 
is  not  much  above  that  of  the  embryonic  condition.*  It 
may  be  added  that  the  higher  centers  of  thought  and  vo- 
lition develop  later  than  those  of  sensation. 

The  brain,  being  an  organ  closely  connected  with  the 
rest  of  the  bodily  organism,  would  tend  to  grow  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  with  the  growth  of  the  organism  as  a  whole, 
and  independently  of  any  activity  of  its  own.  But  such 
growth  would  be  rudimentary  only.  Like  all  other  organs, 
it  grows  and  develops  by  exercise.  This  physiological 
law  is  clearly  the  counterpart  of  the  psychological  law  that 
exercise  strengthens  faculty.  Such  exercises  tend  to 
modify  the  brain  structures  in  some  way,  so  as  to  dis- 
pose them  afterward  to  act  more  readily  in  the  same  man- 
ner.^ 

Factors  in  Development. — The  process  of  mental 
growth  just  traced  out  is  brought  about  by  the  co-opera- 
tion of  two  sets  of  agencies  or  factors — the  mind  itself 
which  develops,  and  the  circumstances  necessary  to  its 
development.  These  may  be  marked  off  as  the  internal 
and  the  external  factor. 

(A)  Internal  Factor. — This  consists  first  of  all  of 

the    simple   and   fundamental   capabilities   of   the   mind. 

Thus  it  includes  the  several  simple  modes  of  sensibility 

to  light,  sound,  and  so  on.     Further,  it  embraces  the  fun- 

*  See  Bastian,  "  The  Brain  as  an  Organ  of  Mind,"  p.  375. 


THE  SOCIAL  ENVIRONMENT, 


55 


damental  intellectual  functions,  discrimination,  and  assim- 
ilation. In  like  manner  it  will  include  the  primary  or 
fundamental  capacities  of  feeling,  and  powers  of  willing. 
The  internal  factor  includes,  too,  the  mind's  native  im- 
pulse to  activity  and  spontaneous  tendency  to  develop- 
ment. 

(B)  External  Factor,  (i)  Natural  Environ- 
ment.— In  the  second  place,  the  development  of  an  indi- 
vidual mind  implies  the  presence  and  co-operation  of  the 
external  factor,  or  the  environment.  By  this  we  mean,  in 
the  first  place,  the  physical  environment  or  natural  sur- 
roundings. The  growth  of  intelligence  presupposes  a 
world  of  sights  and  sounds,  etc.,  to  supply  the  materials 
of  knowledge.  The  mind  of  a  child  deprived  of  these 
would  languish  for  want  of  its  appropriate  nutriment. 
Similarly,  the  development  of  the  feelings,  for  example,  of 
fear,  awe,  the  sense  of  beauty,  etc.,  depends  on  the  pres- 
ence and  action  of  natural  objects.  Finally,  the  will  is 
called  forth  to  activity  by  the  action  of  the  forces  of  the 
natural  environment,  and  by  the  need  of  reacting  on  it 
and  modifying  it. 

(2)  The  Social  Environment.  —  In  addition  to 
what  we  commonly  call  the  natural  or  physical  environ- 
ment, there  is  the  human  and  social  environment.  By  this 
we  mean  the  society  of  which  the  individual  is  a  member, 
with  which  he  holds  certain  relations,  and  by  which  he  is 
profoundly  influenced.  The  social  medium,  like  the  phys- 
ical, affects  the  individual  mind  through  sense-impres- 
sions (sights  and  sounds)  ;  yet  its  action  differs  from  that 
of  the  natural  surroundings  in  being  a  moral  influence.  It 
works  through  the  forces  which  bind  the  individual  to 
other  individuals  and  to  the  community,  such  as  imita- 
tion, sympathy,  and  the  sentiment  of  obedience  or  author- 
ity. 

The  presence  of  a  social  medium  is  necessary  to  a  full 
normal  development  of  mind.    If  it  were  possible  to  main- 


56  MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT. 

tain  a  child  in  bodily  health  and  at  the  same  time  deprive 
him  of  all  companionship,  his  mental  development  would  be 
but  rudimentary.  The  child  comes  under  the  stimulation, 
the  guidance,  and  the  control  of  others,  and  these  influ- 
ences are  essential  to  a  normal  mental  development.  Thus, 
his  intellectual  growth  is  determined  by  continual  contact 
and  interaction  with  the  social  intelligence,  the  body  of 
knowledge  amassed  by  the  race,  and  expressed  in  every- 
day speech,  in  books,  etc.  Similarly,  the  feelings  of  the 
child  quicken  and  grow  under  the  touch  of  social  senti- 
ment. And  finally  the  will  is  called  forth,  stimulated  and 
guided  by  the  habitual  modes  of  action  of  those  about  him. 
These  social  influences  embrace  a  wider  area  as  life  pro- 
gresses. Beginning  with  the  action  of  the  family,  they  go 
on  expanding  by  including  the  influences  of  the  school,  of 
companions,  and  finally  of  the  whole  community,  as  work- 
ing through  manners,  public  opinion,  and  so  forth. 

Undesigned  and  Designed  Influence  of  Society. 
— A  part  of  this  social  influence  acts  undesignedly,  that 
is,  without  any  intention  to  accomplish  a  result.  The  ef- 
fects of  contact  of  mind  with  mind,  of  example,  of  the  pre- 
vailing tone  of  a  family  or  a  society,  all  this  resembles  the 
action  of  natural  or  physical  agencies.  On  the  other  hand, 
a  considerable  remainder  of  this  influence  is  clearly  de- 
signed. To  this  part  belong  all  the  mechanism  of  instruc- 
tion, the  arts  of  suasion,  moral  and  legal  control,  etc. 

Both  kinds  of  social  influence  co-operate  in  each  of  the 
three  great  phases  of  mental  development.  Thus  the  in- 
tellect of  a  child  grows  partly  under  the  influence  of  con- 
tact with  the  social  intelligence  reflecting  itself  in  the 
structure  of  language ;  and  partly  by  the  aid  of  systematic 
instruction.  Similarly,  feeling  develops  partly  through  the 
mere  contact  with  other  minds,  or  the  agencies  of  sympa- 
thy, and  partly  by  direct  appeals  from  others.  Finally, 
the  wi  1  develops  partly  by  the  attraction  of  example  and 
the  impulses  of  imitation,  and  partly  by  the  forces  of  sua- 


VARIETIES  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 


57 


sion,  advice,  reproof,  and  the  whole  system  of  moral  dis- 
cipline. 

Scheme  of  Development. — The  reader  may  perhaps 
be  able  the  better  to  comprehend  the  above  rough  theory 
of  mental  development  by  help  of  the  following  diagram  : 

Fig.  4. 


%. 


&^^ 


..Ae*^ 


M 


Varieties  of  Development. — ^While  all  normally- 
constituted  minds  pass  through  the  same  typical  course  of 
development,  there  are  endless  differences  in  the  details 
of  the  mental  history  of  individuals.  In  no  two  cases, 
indeed,  is  the  process  of  mental  growth  precisely  similar. 
These  diversities  of  mental  history  answer  to  the  differ- 
ences between  mind  and  mind  spoken  of  in  the  previous 
chapter.  Such  differences  of  development  may  be  referred 
to  one  or  two  causes  of  factors  :  (a)  variations  or  mequali- 


58  MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT. 

ties  of  original  capacity,  or  {b)  differences  in  the  external 
circumstances,  physical  and  social.  All  differences  in  the 
final  result,  that  is,  the  mature  or  developed  aptitude  or 
capacity,  must  be  assignable  to  one  (or  both)  of  these  fac- 
tors. 

It  is  important  to  observe  that  differences  of  original 
capacity  include  all  inequalities  in  mental  energy  and 
capability  of  development.  As  every  teacher  knows,  the 
instruments  of  education  applied  to  two  children,  at  ap- 
proximately the  same  level  of  attainment,  result  in  widely 
unlike  amounts  of  progress.  Such  inequalities  in  capa- 
bility of  mental  growth  turn  mainly  on  differences  in  the 
degree  of  mental  activity,  and,  next  to  this,  on  different 
degrees  of  retentive  power. 

Differences  of  Original  Capacity. — In  ascertaining 
these  we  must  be  careful  to  separate  off  only  what  is 
strictly  original,  and  not  in  any  measure  the  result  of  pre- 
vious training  or  other  kind  of  external  influence.  Now, 
we  can  not  altogether  eliminate  the  effect  of  early  influ- 
ences ;  yet  we  can  reduce  this  to  a  minimum  by  taking 
the  child  soon  enough,  or  by  selecting  for  our  experiment 
a  sufficiently  new  mode  of  mental  operation. 

Such  a  method  of  comparative  measurement  applied 
to  young  children  would  undoubtedly  confirm  the  every- 
day observation  of  parents  and  teachers  alike,  that  chil- 
dren are  at  birth  endowed  with  very  unequal  degrees  of 
capacity  of  different  kinds.  Each  individual  has  his  par- 
ticular proportion  of  aptitudes  and  tendencies,  which  con- 
stitute his  n-aiure  or  his  natural  character,  as  distinguished 
from  his  later  and  partly  acquired  character.  This  nat- 
ural character  is  doubtless  very  closely  connected  with 
the  peculiar  make  of  his  bodily,  and  more  particularly  his 
nervous  organism.  The  condition  of  the  sense-organs,  of 
the  brain,  of  the  muscular  system,  and  even  of  the  lower 
vital  organs,  all  serves  to  determine  what  we  call  the  na- 
tive idiosyncrasy  or  temperament  of  the  individual. 


COMMON  AND  SPECIAL  HEREDITY.  59 

The  Law  of  Heredity. — According  to  modern  sci- 
ence these  original  differences  are,  in  part  at  least,  illustra- 
tions of  the  principle  of  heredity.  This  principle  states 
that  physical  and  mental  peculiarities  tend  to  be  trans- 
mitted from  parents  to  children.  Just  as  bodily  features 
reappear  in  parents  and  children,  so  intellectual  and  moral 
traits  persist  in  the  shape  of  inherited  mental  dispositions. 
These  are  handed  down  in  connection  with  certain  pecul- 
iarities of  the  brain  and  nervous  system. 

Common  and  Special  Heredity. — The  principle  of 
heredity  manifests  itself  in  different  ways.  In  one  sense 
we  may  say  that  our  common  human  nature,  with  its 
typical  physical  organism  and  its  several  mental  suscepti- 
bilities and  capabilities,  is  inherited,  that  is,  transmitted 
to  each  new  member  of  the  species.  But,  as  customarily 
employed,  the  term  heredity  refers  to  the  transmission  of 
physical  or  mental  peculiarities  which  have  somehow 
been  acquired  by  the  individual's  ancestors.  This  trans- 
mission of  acquired  characteristics  assumes  a  wider  or 
a  narrower  form.  Its  widest  range  is  seen  in  the  alleged 
fact  that  the  offspring  of  civilized  races  have  from  the  first 
a  higher  intellectual  and  moral  endowment  than  those  of 
uncivilized,  having  certain  original  or  instinctive  disposi- 
tions to  think,  feel,  and  act  in  the  ways  that  have  become 
habitual  with  civilized  mankind.  According  to  this  view, 
as  civilization  progresses  and  education  improves,  native 
capacity  tends  to  slowly  increase,  and  this  gradual  increase 
constitutes  one  factor  in  the  upward  progress  of  the  spe- 
cies. Again,  members  of  one  particular  race  or  national- 
ity, as  Celts  or  Frenchmen,  appear  to  inherit  distinct  phys- 
ical and  mental  traits.  Still  more  plainly  the  members 
of  one  family  may  often  be  observed  to  present  similar 
mental  as  well  as  bodily  characteristics  through  a  number 
of  generations.  These  mental  peculiarities  are  partly  in- 
tellectual, partly  emotional,  and  partly  active,  referring  to 
differences  in  strength  of  will,  etc.     An  interesting  exam- 


6o  MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT. 

pie  of  this  is  occasionally  to  be  met  with  in  the  transmis- 
sion of  a  definite  kind  of  talent  through  generations  of  a 
given  family,  as,  for  example,  of  musical  talent  in  the  Bach 
family.* 

It  is  evident,  however,  that  the  members  of  one  family 
show  marked  diversities  as  well  as  similarities.  We  often 
remark  very  striking  contrasts  of  ideas,  feelings,  -^.nd  incli- 
nations among  children  of  the  same  family.  Such  con- 
trasts may  sometimes  be  only  another  illustration  of  the 
action  of  heredity,  some  members  of  the  family  represent- 
ing certain  ancestral  traits,  other  members,  other  traits. 
But  this  can  not  be  safely  maintained  in  the  majority  of 
instances.  In  the  present  stage  of  our  knowledge  of  the 
subject,  heredity  only  helps  us  to  account  for  a  compara- 
tively few  among  the  host  of  peculiarities  which  go  to 
make  up  the  natural  basis  of  an  individual  character.  We 
have  to  recognize  along  with  this  another  tendency,  namely, 
to  individual  variation. 

Varieties  of  External  Influence. — While  original 
peculiarities  of  nature  or  temperament  thus  play  a  consid- 
erable part  in  individual  development,  they  are  not  the 
sole  agency  at  work.  Differences  in  the  surroundings, 
physical  and  still  more  social,  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with 
the  differences  of  ability  and  character  that  we  find  among 
individuals. 

The  important  thing  to  bear  in  mind  here  is  that  no 
two  individuals  ever  come  under  the  same  influences. 
Even  twins,  who  are  born  into  the  same  family  at  the  same 
time,  have  an  unlike  social  environment  from  the  first. 
Their  own  mother  is  hardly  likely  to  feel  toward  them  or 
to  treat  them  in  quite  the  same  way ;  and  others  show  this 
divergence  of  feeling  and  behavior  very  much  more.  As 
life  progresses,  the  sum  of  external  influences,  serving  to 

*  For  fuller  illustrations  of  such  transmission  of  definite  ability,  see 
Mr.  F.  Galton's  work,  "  Hereditary  Genius  "  ;  cf.  Prof.  Th.  Ribot's 
volume,  "On  Heredity." 


VARIETIES  OF  EXTERNAL  INFLUENCE.     6 1 

differentiate  individual  character,  increases.  The  school, 
the  place  of  business,  the  circle  of  friends,  and  so  on,  all 
help  to  give  a  peculiar  stamp  to  the  individual  mind. 

That  even  such  slight  differences  in  surroundings  must 
produce  an  effect  follows  from  psychological  laws.  The 
mind  grows  on  what  it  assimilates.  The  lines  of  its  growth 
will  be  to  some  extent  predetermined  by  innate  capabili- 
ties and  tendencies  ;  but  these  only  broadly  limit  the  pro- 
cess, they  do  not  fix  its  precise  character.  The  particular 
ideas  and  connections  of  ideas  formed,  the  intellectual 
habits  fixed,  the  peculiar  coloring  of  the  feelings,  and  the 
special  lines  of  the  conduct  will  all  be  determined  by  the 
character  of  the  surroundings. 

It  is  impossible,  in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge, 
to  say  how  much  of  the  diversity  of  intelligence  and  char- 
acter that  we  find  among  men  is  referable  to  native  dif- 
ferences, how  much  to  the  effects  of  surroundings,  more 
particularly  social  surroundings.  The  older  psychology 
of  Locke  overlooked  the  effects  of  native  differences,  of 
individual  nature.  To  Locke  all  men  were  born  with 
equal  abilities,  and  the  differences  were  due  to  experience 
and  education.  The  newer  psychology  rightly  insists  on 
the  existence  of  these  original  differences,  on  the  effects 
of  "nature"  as  distinguished  from  "nurture."*  There 
is  no  doubt  that  similar  experiences  and  outer  influences 
do  not  produce  precisely  identical  results.  At  the  same 
time,  it  is  possible  that  we  of  to-day  are  apt  to  underesti- 

*  The  importance  of  original  differences  of  intellectual  aptitude  and 
emotional  disposition  has  just  been  insisted  on  with  great  force  of  argu- 
ment by  Mr.  F.  Galton  in  his  curious  volume,  "  Inquiries  into  Human 
Faculty  and  its  Development."  See  "  Nurture  and  Nature,"  p.  177, 
etc.  An  illustration  of  the  strength  and  pertinacity  of  original  tend- 
encies is  very  clearly  brought  out  in  the  "  History  of  Twins,"  p.  216,  et 
seq.  Mr.  Galton  takes  cases  of  twins  who  were  much  alike,  and  also 
of  twins  who  were  distinctly  unlike,  and  he  seeks  to  show  that  in  both 
cases  the  final  result  is  largely  determined  by  nature  and  not  by  nur- 
ture. 


62  MENTAL   DEVELOPMENT. 

mate  the  effects  of  surroundings,  and  more  particularly  of 
early  bringing  up.  It  is  true,  of  course,  that  there  never 
is  anything  in  the  finished  mental  product,  the  mature 
mind  and  character,  which  was  not  present  potentially  at 
the  outset.  It  is  also  true  that  all  growth  is  the  immediate 
outcome  of  the  mind's  own  exertion  and  activity.  Still, 
it  may  be  said  that  the  special  external  circumstances  of 
the  individual  life  were  needed  to  evoke  and  nurture  these 
latent  germs  of  ability,  and  to  call  forth  and  direct  that 
activity. 

It  is  common  to  say  that  men  of  genius  are  independ- 
ent of  their  surroundings,  that  their  powers  germinate  and 
fructify  in  spite  of  unfavorable  surroundings.  This  is  true 
in  a  sense.  The  stronger  the  native  intellectual  bent,  the 
more  strenuous  the  mental  exertions,  the  more  independ- 
ent is  the  mind  of  its  surroundings;  or,  to  put  it  more 
accurately,  the  more  readily  will  it  create  a  favorable  en- 
vironment (companions,  books,  etc.)  for  itself.  In  aver- 
age cases,  however,  when  there  is  no  such  powerful  and 
predominant  impulse,  it  is  the  actual  surroundings,  and 
particularly  the  early  influences  of  the  home  and  the  school, 
which  determine  which  of  the  potential  aptitudes  and  in- 
clinations shall  be  fostered  into  life  and  vigor.^ 

The  Teacher  and  the  Social  Environment. — 
From  the  foregoing  we  see  that  education  fulfills  an  im- 
portant function  among  the  influences  presupposed  in 
development.  The  intellectual  and  moral  culture  of  the 
home  constitutes  a  prime  ingredient  in  the  sum  of  the 
influences  of  the  social  environment.  The  influence  of  the 
school-teacher,  though  much  more  restricted  on  the  emo- 
tional and  moral  side,  is  the  most  important  of  the  external 
stimuli  to  intellectual  progress.  As  Pestalozzi  has  pointed 
out,  the  teacher  stands  in  place  of  the  parent,  having  to 
carry  forward,  in  a  more  thorough  and  systematic  manner, 
and  to  a  much  higher  point  than  the  qualifications  and 
the  opportunities  of  the  parent  commonly  allow,  the  early 


TRAINING  OF  THE  FACULTIES,  63 

intellectual  instruction  of  the  home  ;  and,  regarded  in  this 
light,  his  work  is  eminently  a  natural  one,  being  the  out- 
growth of  the  instinct  of  instruction  which  shows  itself  in 
germ  in  the  lower  animals,  and  in  man  is  inseparately  in- 
tertwined with  the  parental  feelings  and  instincts.  Viewed 
in  another  way,  the  teacher  represents  not  merely  the  par- 
ent but  the  community.  This  he  does  by  aiming  at  pre- 
paring the  learner  in  intelligence,  and,  as  far  as  possible, 
in  character,  to  properly  fill  his  future  place  in  the  com- 
munity ;  and  by  bringing  to  bear  for  this  purpose  all  the 
resources  of  the  knowledge  which  has  become  the  heritage 
of  the  present  from  the  past,  as  well  as  a  type  of  character 
which  represents  as  clearly  as  possible  the  highest  moral 
progress  yet  attained  by  man.* 

Training  of  the  Faculties. — The  systematic  pro- 
cedure of  the  teacher  is  implied  in  the  word  training. 
This  involves  the  putting  of  the  child  in  such  circum- 
stances, and  surrounding  it  by  such  influences,  as  will 
serve  to  call  the  faculty  into  exercise,  or,  as  has  already 
been  pointed  out,  the  supplying  of  the  intellect  with  ma- 
terials to  work  upon,  or  nutriment  to  be  assimilated,  to- 
gether with  the  application  of  a  stimulus  or  motive  to 
exertion.  It  means,  too,  the  continuous  or  periodic  exer- 
cise of  the  faculty,  with  the  definite  purpose  of  strengthen- 
ing it,  and  advancing  its  growth. 

Such  training  must  clearly  be  based  on  a  knowledge  of 
the  laws  of  mental  development.  Thus  it  has  to  conform 
to  the  great  law  of  all  growth,  that  it  is  appropriate  exer- 
cise which  strengthens  faculty.  That  is  to  say,  it  will  aim 
directly  at  calling  forth  a  faculty  into  its  proper  mode  of 
action  by  supplying  materials  and  motives  adapted  to  the 
stage  of  development  reached  at  the  time.  Training  may 
be  said  to  be  adapted  when  it  supplies  an  adequate  but 
not  excessive  stimulation  of  the  faculty.  By  adequate 
stimulation  is  here  meant  an  excitation  of  sufficient 
strength  and  variety  to  secure  completeness  of  growth.    A 


64  MENTAL  DEVELOPMENT. 

boy's  memory  or  understanding  is  not  properly  trained  if 
very  easy  tasks  are  assigned  which  fail  to  rouse  the  faculty 
to  full  activity.  By  excessive  stimulation  is  meant  an 
amount  of  excitation  which  forces  the  activity  to  such  a 
point  as  is  unfavorable  to  growth.  Thus,  when  a  boy  is 
set  to  master  a  problem  in  Euclid  beyond  his  powers  of 
reasoning  the  task,  by  baffling  effort  and  confusing  the 
mind,  is  distinctly  adverse  to  intellectual  progress.  It  fol- 
lows that  all  good  training  must  be  progressive,  the  tasks 
becoming  more  difficult  pari  passu  with  the  growth  of 
ability. 

In  the  second  place,  the  whole  scheme  of  training 
should  conform  to  the  natural  order  of  development  of 
the  faculties.  Those  faculties  which  develop  first  must  be 
exercised  first.  It  is  vain,  for  example,  to  try  to  cultivate 
the  power  of  abstraction,  by  subjects  like  grammar,  before 
the  powers  of  observation  (perception)  and  imagination 
have  reached  a  certain  degree  of  strength.  This  self-evi- 
dent proposition  is  one  of  the  best  accepted  principles  in 
the  modern  theory  of  education,  though  there  is  reason  to 
apprehend  that  it  is  still  frequently  violated  in  practice. 

Once  more,  a  method  of  training  based  on  scientific 
principles  will  aim  not  only  at  taking  up  a  faculty  at  the 
right  moment,  but  also  at  cultivating  it  up  to  the  proper 
point,  and  not  beyond  this.  By  this  point  is  meant  the 
level  which  answers  to  its  rank  or  value  in  the  whole 
scale  of  faculties.  Thus,  for  example,  in  training  the 
memory  or  the  imagination  we  should  inquire  into  its 
precise  importance  in  relation  to  the  attainment  of  knowl- 
edge and  intellectual  culture  as  a  whole,  and  give  to  its 
exercise  and  development  a  proportionate  amount  of 
attention. 

The  perfect  following  out  of  this  principle  is  that 
harmonious  development  of  the  whole  mind  on  which 
Pestalozzi  and  others  have  laid  emphasis.  The  educator 
must  ever  keep  before  him  the  ideal  of  a  complete  man. 


TRAINING  OF   THE  FACULTIES.  65 

strong  and  well-developed  physically,  intellectually,  and 
morally,  and,  so  far  as  practicable,  assign  a  proportionate 
amount  of  time  and  exercise  to  the  development  of  each 
side  of  the  child's  being.^ 

Finally,  training,  in  order  to  be  adequate,  must  be  to 
some  extent  elastic,  adapting  itself  to  the  numerous  dif- 
ferences among  young  minds.  Up  to  a  certain  point  a 
common  result,  namely,  a  typical  completeness  of  develop- 
ment, will  be  aimed  at.  It  would  not  be  well,  for  ex- 
ample, that  any  child,  however  unimaginative,  should 
have  his  imagination  wholly  untrained.  At  the  same 
time  this  typical  plan  of  cultivation  must  be  modified  in 
detail.  The  greater  the  natural  aptitude,  the  more  eco- 
nomical the  production  of  a  given  psychical  result.  Hence 
it  would  be  wasteful  to  give  as  much  time  and  thought  to 
the  training  of  a  bad  as  of  a  good  germ  of  faculty.  Nor 
do  the  practical  ends  of  life  impose  such  a  disagreeable 
task  on  the  teacher.  Variety  of  individual  development 
is  in  itself  valuable,  and  moreover  answers  to  the  highly 
elaborated  division  of  life-work  or  differentiation  of  life- 
function  which  characterizes  civilization.  The  problem  of 
respecting  individuality  in  educating  the  young,  of  secur- 
ing a  sufficient  diversity  of  studies  in  our  school  system, 
is  probably  one  of  the  most  urgent  practical  educational 
problems  of  the  hour.     (See  Notes  6  and  6^?.) 

APPENDIX. 
For  a  fuller  account  of  the  nature  and  causes  of  mental  develop- 
ment the  reader  is  referred  to  Mr.  Spencer's  "  Principles  of  Psychology," 
especially  vol.  i,  parts  iii  and  iv.  A  brief  account  of  the  process  as 
bearing  on  education  will  be  found  in  ihe  same  writer's  essay,  "  Educa- 
tion," chap.  ii.  His  views  have  been  criticised  by  M.  H.  Joly,  "  No- 
tions de  Pedagogic,"  p.  48,  etc.,  and  by  W.  H.  Payne,  "Contributions 
to  the  Science  of  Education,"  chap.  iv.  The  subject  has  also  been  dis- 
cussed from  an  educational  point  of  view  by  Beneke,  "  Erziehungs  und 
Unterrichtslehre,"  i,  p.  loi,  etc.  ;  G.  F.  Pfisterer,  "  Paedagogische  Psy- 
chologic," §  2  ;  and  Dittes,  "  Grundriss,"  §  22.  The  determining  forces 
in  development  are  given  by  Waitz,  "  Allg.  P?ed.,"  §  4  ;  Rosenkranz, 
"  Paed.  as  System,"  p.  23,  etc. ;  T.  Ziller,  "  Vorlesungen  iiber  Allg.  Pa;d.," 
pp.  49  and  60 ;  and  Guyau,  "  Education  et  Hcredite,"  chap,  i  and  ii 


l(Ui.1  j^  V  £^ 


■^ 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ATTENTION. 

Place  of  Attention  in  Mind. — Attention  enters  as 
an  important  condition  into  all  classes  of  mental  opera- 
tion. There  is  no  distinct  thinking,  no  vivid  feeling,  and 
no  deliberate  action  without  attention.  This  co-operation 
of  attention  is  specially  conspicuous  in  the  case  of  intellect- 
ual operations.  The  objects  which  present  themselves  to 
our  senses  are  only  clearly  discriminated  one  from  the 
other,  and  classed  as  objects  of  such  and  such  a  class, 
when  we  attend  to  them.  So  again,  present  impressions 
only  exercise  their  full  force  in  calling  up  what  is  as- 
sociated with  them  when  we  keep  them  before  the  mind 
by  an  act  of  attention.  Once  more,  all  abstract  thinking 
is  clearly  an  active  state  of  mind  involving  a  voluntary 
fixing  of  the  attention.  We  thus  see  that  attention,  though 
a  form  of  action,  and  in  its  higher  developments  presup- 
posing an  effort  of  will,  stands  in  the  closest  relation  to 
intellectual  operations.  It  is  co-operation  of  the  active 
side  of  mind  in  intellectual  processes,  and  it  is  one  of  the 
great  determining  forces  of  intellectual  development. 
This  being  so,  it  is  desirable  to  give  a  brief  account  of 
it  before  entering  on  the  exposition  of  intellect,  reserving 
the  exposition  of  its  higher  forms  till  we  come  to  consider 
the  nature  of  volition. 

Definition  of  Attention. — Attention  may  be  roughly 
defined  as  the  active  self-direction  of  the  mind  to  any 


PLACE  OF  ATTENTION  IN  MIND,  67 

material  or  object  which  presents  itself  to  it  at  the  mo- 
ment* It  thus  means  somewhat  the  same  as  the  mind's 
*'  consciousness "  of  what  is  present  to  it.  The  field  of 
attention,  however,  is  narrower  than  that  of  consciousness. 
I  may  be  very  vaguely  or  indistinctly  conscious  of  some 
bodily  sensation,  as  hunger,  of  some  haunting  recollection, 
and  so  on,  without  making  it  the  object  of  attention.  At- 
tention involves  an  intensification  of  consciousness,  a  con- 
centration or  narrowing  of  it  on  some  definite  and  re- 
stricted portion  of  the  mental  scene  ;  or,  to  express  it 
otherwise,  it  implies  a  turning  of  the  mental  eye  in  a  par- 
ticular direction  so  as  to  see  the  objects  lying  in  that 
quarter  as  distinctly  as  possible,  f 

As  an  active  tension  of  mind,  attention  is  opposed  to 
that  relaxed  state  of  mind  in  which  there  is  no  conscious 
exertion  to  fix  the  gaze  on  any  particular  object.  This 
answers  to  what  the  teacher  is  wont  to  call  inattention. 
It  is  a  state  of  listlessness  or  drowsiness  as  compared  with 
one  of  activity  and  wakefulness. 

Directions  of  Attention. — Attention  follows  one  of 
two  main  directions ;  that  is,  is  directed  to  one  of  two 
great  fields  of  objects,  (i)  The  first  region  is  that  of  ex- 
ternal impressions,  the  sights,  sounds,  etc.,  which  make 
up  the  world  of  sense.  When  the  teacher  talks  about 
"attending,"  he  commonly  means  actively  listening,  or 
actively  looking.  This  is  the  direction  of  attention  out- 
ward, or  external  attention.  (2)  In  addition  to  external 
impressions,  internal  images,  ideas  and  thoughts,  may  be 
attended  to.  This  constitutes  the  second  main  direction 
of  attention,  or  internal  attention.     All  intellectual  atten- 

*  The  reader  must  be  careful  to  distinguish  between  "  object  of 
attention"  and  "external  object,"  as  we  commonly  understand  it.  As 
we  shall  see  presently,  the  former,  though  including  the  latter,  is  a 
much  wider  domain  than  this. 

f  The  idea  of  mental  activity  in  the  full  sense,  or  mental  tension,  is 
directly  suggested  by  the  etymology  of  the  word,  ad  tendere^  to  stretch 
(sc,  the  mind  toward). 
6 


68  ATTENTION. 

tion,  that  is  to  say,  attention  engaged  in  the  processes  of 
learning  or  coming  to  know  about  things,  is  attention 
directed  either  to  external  impressions  or  to  internal 
ideas.  So  far  as  we  attend  to  feelings  of  pleasure  and 
pain  we  appear  to  do  so  by  fixing  the  attention  on  the  ex- 
citing cause  of  the  feeling,  which  must  be  either  an  exter- 
nal object  or  an  internal  idea.  Finally,  in  attending  to 
our  actions,  we  fix  our  minds  on  the  idea  of  the  result 
which  we  are  immediately  aiming  at.  Thus,  in  every 
case,  the  object  of  attention  is  some  external  impression, 
or  internal  idea,  or  thought. 

Effects  of  Attention. — The  immediate  effect  of  an 
act  of  attention  serves  to  give  greater  force,  vividness,  and 
distinctness  to  its  object.  Thus  an  impression  of  sound,  as 
the  tolling  of  a  bell,  becomes  more  forcible,  and  has  its 
character  made  more  definite,  when  we  direct  our  atten- 
tion to  it.  A  thought,  a  recollection,  is  rendered  distinct 
by  attending  to  it.  The  intensification  of  consciousness 
in  one  particular  direction  produces  thus  an  increase  of 
illumination,  and  so  subserves  the  clear  perception  and 
understanding  of  things. 

Attention  produces  striking  effects  on  the  feelings.  A 
serious  bodily  injury  may  hardly  trouble  our  mind,  if 
through  some  exceptional  excitement  it  is  hindered  from 
attending  to  it.  Thus  it  is  known  that  soldiers  wounded 
in  battle  have  hardly  felt  any  pain  at  the  moment.  On 
the  other  hand,  a  very  moderate  sensation  of  discomfort, 
as  an  irritation  of  the  skin,  grows  into  something  intensely 
disagreeable  if  the  attention  is  fastened  on  the  particular 
bodily  locality  affected.  Finally,  our  actions  grow  more 
vigorous  and  energetic  as  well  as  more  precise  when  we 
give  our  attention  to  the  objects  aimed  at.* 

Physiology  of  Attention. — The  seat  of  attention 
appears  to  be  situated  in  the  higher  region  of  the  nerve- 

*  For  some  curious  illustrations  of  the  effects  of  attention,  see  Dr. 
Carpenter's  "  Mental  Physiology,"  chap.  iii. 


EXTENT  OF  ATTENTION.  69 

centers  in  the  cerebral  hemispheres.  The  mechanism  of 
attention  probably  involves  an  intensification  of  nervous 
activity  in  certain  regions  of  the  brain,  which  is  effected 
by  means  of  an  impulse  sent  forth  from  the  supreme  con- 
trolling centers.  In  this  way,  for  example,  the  nerve- 
centers  employed  in  hearing  are  thrown  into  a  state  of 
exceptional  excitability  when  we  listen  to  somebody  read- 
ing or  singing.  Along  with  this  concentration  of  nerve- 
energy  in  certain  definite  regions  of  the  brain,  the  act  of 
external  attention  involves  important  muscular  adjust- 
ments, such  as  directing  the  eye  to  an  object,  which  are 
necessary  to  the  reception  of  distinct  sense-impressions.^ 

Extent  of  Attention. — All  attention  is  a  narrowing 
of  the  range  of  mental  activity  and  to  a  certain  extent  a 
concentration  or  focusing  of  the  mind  on  a  given  point. 
But  all  acts  of  attention  do  not  embrace  equal  areas  or 
extents.  Just  as  in  looking  at  a  landscape  we  may  fix  the 
eye  on  a  smaller  or  larger  portion  of  the  scene,  so  the 
mind  may  direct  itself  to  a  smaller  or  larger  area  of 
object. 

In  general  it  may  be  said  that  the  more  things  we  try 
to  include  in  our  mental  gaze  the  less  distinct  is  the 
result.  This  is  seen  plainly  in  all  efforts  to  attend  to  a 
variety  of  disconnected  things  at  one  time,  as  when  we 
are  reading  a  book  and  listening  to  a  conversation.  "  One 
thing  at  a  time  "  is  the  law  of  mental  activity,  and  the 
performing  of  distinct  mental  occupations  is  only  possible 
where  repetition  and  habit  exempt  us  from  close  attention, 
as  in  carrying  on  some  familiar  manual  operation  and 
listening  to  another's  words. 

Where,  however,  we  have  to  do  with  a  number  of  con- 
nected impressions  or  objects  of  attention,  we  are  able  to 
a  certain  extent  to  include  them  in  one  view.  Thus  we 
can  attend  to  the  features  of  a  face  in  their  relations  of 
proportion,  to  a  succession  of  musical  sounds  in  their  re- 
lations of  rhythm,  etc.     This  grasp  of  a  number  of  parts, 


70  ATTENTION. 

details,  or  members  of  a  group,  is  greatly  facilitated  by  a 
rapid  transition  of  the  mental  glance  from  one  detail  to 
another,  as  in  running  over  the  various  features  of  an 
artistic  design,  or  the  succeeding  steps  of  an  argument. 

On  what  the  Degree  of  Attention  depends. — 
The  amount  of  attention  exerted  at  any  time  depends  on 
two  chief  circumstances  :  {a)  the  quantity  of  nervous 
energy  disposable  at  the  time;  (p)  the  strength  of  the 
stimulus  which  excites  the  attention  or  rouses  it  to  action. 
If  there  is  great  active  energy,  a  feeble  stimulus  will  suffice 
to  bring  about  attention.  A  healthy,  vigorous  child,  in  the 
early  part  of  the  day,  has  a  superabundance  of  energy 
which  shows  itself  in  attention  to  small  and  comparatively 
uninteresting  matters.  Indeed,  his  activity  prompts  him 
to  seek  objects  of  attention  in  his  surroundings.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  tired  or  weakly  child  requires  a  powerful 
stimulus  to  rouse  his  mental  activity. 

External  and  Internal  Stimuli. — The  stimulus  to 
an  act  of  attention  may  be  either  something  external,  con- 
nected with  the  object  attended  to,  or  something  internal. 
An  external  stimulus  consists  of  some  interesting  or  strik- 
ing feature  in  the  object  itself,  or  in  its  accompaniments, 
by  reason  of  which  the  attention  is  said  to  be  attracted 
and  arrested,  as  when  a  child's  attention  is  excited  by  the 
brilliance  of  a  light,  or  the  strangeness  of  a  sound.  An 
internal  stimulus  is  a  motive  in  the  mind  which  prompts 
it  to  put  forth  its  attention  in  a  particular  direction,  such 
as  the  desire  of  a  child  to  please  his  teacher,  or  to  gain  a 
higher  place  in  his  class. 

Non- Voluntary  and  Voluntary  Attention.— When 
the  mind  is  acted  upon  by  the  mere  force  of  the  object 
presented,  the  act  of  attention  is  said  to  be  non-voluntary.* 
It  may  also  be  called  reflex  (or  automatic)  because  it  bears 

*  The  term  non-voluntary  is  preferred  to  involuntary,  as  indicating 
the  mere  absence  of  volition,  and  not  opposition  to  will  or  **  unwilling- 
ness." 


LAW  OF  CONTRAST  AND  NOVELTY.         71 

a  striking  analogy  to  reflex  movement,  that  is  to  say,  move- 
ment following  sensory  stimulation  without  the  interven- 
tion of  a  conscious  purpose.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
we  attend  to  a  thing  under  the  impulse  of  a  desire,  such 
as  curiosity  or  a  wish  to  know  about  a  thing,  we  are  said 
to  do  so  by  an  act  of  will,  or  voluntarily.  These  two  modes 
of  attention,  though  properly  distinguished  one  from  an- 
other, are  both  acts  of  the  mind,  and  will  be  found  to  shade 
off  one  into  the  other  in  our  actual  mental  life. 

Reflex  Attention. — This  is  the  earlier  form  of  atten- 
tion, and  the  one  with  which  the  teacher  is  specially  con- 
cerned in  the  first  stages  of  instruction.  Here  the  direc- 
tion of  the  attention  is  determined  for  the  mind  rather 
than  by  the  mind.  It  follows  the  lead  of  the  attractive 
force  which  happens  to  work  at  the  time. 

In  its  simplest  form  attention  is  a  momentary  direction 
of  the  attention  due  to  the  action  of  a  powerful  sensory 
stimulus,  as  a  brilliant  light,  a  loud  sound,  etc.  Every 
teacher  knows  the  value  of  a  strong  emphatic  mode  of 
utterance  in  commanding  the  attention  ;  and  this  effect  is 
partly  due  to  the  action  of  strong  sensuous  impressions  in 
rousing  mental  activity. 

Law  of  Contrast  and  Novelty. — This  momentary 
direction  of  the  attention  is  governed  by  the  law  of  change 
or  contrast.  According  to  this  principle,  an  unvarying 
impression,  if  prolonged,  fails  to  produce  a  mental  effect. 
The  constant  noise  of  the  mill  soon  ceases  to  be  noticed 
by  one  who  lives  near  it.  This  is  partly  due  to  the  fact 
that  a  prolonged  powerful  stimulus  fatigues  the  nerve-cen- 
ter and  renders  it  less  responsive.  But,  in  addition  to 
this,  a  prolonged  impression,  even  if  a  powerful  one,  loses 
its  effect  because  it  ceases  to  exert  an  attractive  force  on 
the  attention.  Hence,  the  teacher  who  continually  or  very 
frequently  addresses  his  class  in  loud  tones,  misses  the 
advantage  of  an  occasional  raising  of  the  voice. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  sudden  change  of  impression,  as 


72  ATTENTION. 

when  a  light  is  brought  into  a  dark  room,  or  the  report  of 
a  gun  breaks  the  stillness  of  the  country,  acts  as  a  power- 
ful excitant  to  the  attention.  For  the  same  reason  a  strong 
contrast  of  impression,  as  between  high  and  low,  soft  and 
loud  in  music,  bright  and  dark  colors,  and  so  forth,  is  an 
excitant  to  the  attention. 

Novelty,  so  powerful  a  force  in  childhood  and  a  con- 
siderable force  throughout  life,  is  only  a  further  illustra- 
tion of  the  law  of  change.  For  something  new  attracts 
the  attention,  because  it  stands  in  contrast  with  our  ordi- 
nary surroundings  and  experience.  It  stimulates  and  ex- 
cites the  mind  very  much  as  a  startling  contrast. 

Interest, — When  it  is  said  that  we  only  attend  to  what 
interests  us,  there  is  a  reference  to  the  excitation  of  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  feeling.  This  feeling  acts  as  a  force  in  ar- 
resting the  attention  and  keeping  it  fixed  for  an  apprecia- 
ble time.  Attention  to  what  interests  us  is  thus  always 
something  more  than  the  momentary  direction  of  atten- 
tion.    This  feeling  of  interest  may  arise  in  different  ways. 

(i)  In  the  first  place,  interest  is  excited  when  the  ob- 
ject is  in  itself  pretty  or  beautiful,  and  so  fitted  to  give 
immediate  pleasure  or  gratification  in  the  very  act  of 
attending  to  it.  Thus,  an  infant  will  keep  its  eyes  fixed 
for  a  time  on  the  lamp  brought  into  the  room,  because  of 
its  pleasurable  effect.  The  production  of  pleasure,  in  con- 
nection with  any  mode  of  activity,  tends,  as  we  shall  see 
by-and-by,  to  intensify  and  prolong  this  activity.  This 
forms  the  germ  of  aesthetic  interest. 

(2)  Another  great  source  of  interest  in  things  is  their 
connection  with  what  is  pleasurable  or  painful  in  our  past 
experience.  The  infant  shows  the  most  vivid  interest  in 
such  sights  as  the  preparation  of  its  food,  its  bath,  etc. 
A  child  will  listen  to  whatever  bears  on  its  familiar  pleas- 
ures, its  favorite  possessions  and  companions,  its  amuse- 
ments, etc.  In  all  states  of  fear,  again,  we  see  the  atten- 
tion closely  engaged  by  that  which  bears  on  pain  or  suffer- 


FAMILIARITY  AND  INTEREST. 


73 


ing.  This  effect  of  a  connection  or  association  with  what 
is  pleasurable  or  painful  in  riveting  the  attention  underlies 
what  we  mark  off  as  practical  interest. 

(3)  Lastly,  interest  may  assume  a  more  distinctly  in- 
tellectual form,  involving  the  germ  of  a  wish  to  understand  a 
thing,  and  the  desire  for  knowledge  as  such.  This  intellect- 
ual interest  is  what  we  commonly  call  curiosity.  It  springs 
up  in  different  ways.  It  arises  most  naturally  out  of  a  feeling 
of  wonder  at  what  is  new,  strange,  and  mysterious,  as 
when  a  child  sees  a  light  go  out  in  a  bottle  filled  with  car- 
bonic acid,  and  wants  to  know  the  cause.  In  many  cases, 
however,  it  takes  its  rise  in  the  feeling  of  delight  produced 
by  what  is  beautiful,  as  when  a  child  is  interested  in  know- 
ing about  a  lovely  flower  or  bird.  Finally,  this  intellectual 
interest  is  greatly  promoted  by  the  principle  of  associa- 
tion. The  direction  of  children's  curiosity  follows  to  a 
large  extent  the  lead  of  association.  What  is  seen  to  have 
a  bearing  on  the  child's  pleasures  and  practical  aims  tends 
to  become  the  object  of  a  genuine  intellectual  curiosity. 

Familiarity  and  Interest. — It  follows  from  this 
that  mere  novelty,  though  a  powerful  stimulus  to  the  at- 
tention, and  capable  of  leading  on  to  curiosity,  is  rarely  if 
ever  sufficient  to  detain  and  fix  the  attention  in  a  pro- 
longed act  or  attitude.  What  is  absolutely  strange  and 
consequently  unsuggestive  to  the  child's  mind  is  apt  to  be 
a  matter  of  indifference.  In  walking  down  a  new  street, 
for  example,  a  child  will  as  a  rule  notice  those  things 
which  in  some  way  remind  him  of,  and  connect  themselves 
with,  what  he  already  knows  and  likes,  e.  g.,  the  harness  in 
the  saddler's  shop.*  While,  therefore,  the  principle  of 
change  tells  us  that  perfect  familiarity  with  a  subject  is 
fatal  to  interest,  the  laws  of  intellectual  interest  tell  us 
that  a  measure  of  familiarity  is  essential.     The  principle 

*  See  the  interesting  account  of  the  want  of  interest  in  London 
sights  manifested  by  some  Esquimaux  who  visited  our  capital,  given 
by  Miss  Edgeworth,  "  Practical  Education,"  ii,  p.  118. 


74 


ATTENTION. 


of  modern  intellectual  education,  that  there  should  be  a 
gradual  transition  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  is  thus 
seen  to  correspond  not  only  with  the  necessities  of  intellect- 
ual movement  and  development,  but  also  with  the  natural 
laws  of  development  of  those  feelings  of  interest  which  in- 
spire attention  and  so  call  the  intellectual  faculties  into  play.® 

Transition  to  Voluntary  Attention.— The  devel- 
opment of  interest  and  curiosity  forms  a  natural  transition 
from  non-voluntary  to  voluntary  attention.  The  prolonga-' 
tion  of  the  act  of  attention  implies  a  germ  of  volition. 
Thus  the  maintenance  of  the  expectant  attitude  of  mind 
by  a  class,  when  the  teacher  is  presenting  interesting  ma- 
terials, is  due  to  a  vague  anticipation  of  coming  gratifica- 
tion and  a  desire  to  realize  this.  Here,  then,  we  see  how 
gradually  the  earlier  and  lower  form  passes  into  the  later 
and  higher.  In  supplying  interesting  matter  to  his  class, 
and  exciting  a  feeling  of  pleasurable  interest,  the  teacher 
is  preparing  the  way  for  the  exercises  of  the  will  in  what  is 
called  voluntary  attention. 

Function  of  the  Will  in  Attention. — It  is  impossi- 
ble at  this  stage  to  explain  the  whole  nature  of  voluntary 
attention.  As  a  mode  of  will  or  volition  it  obeys  the  laws 
of  volition,  which  will  be  expounded  later  on.  Here  it 
must  suffice  to  indicate  the  effects  of  voluntary  action  in 
enlarging  the  sphere  and  otherwise  modifying  the  charac- 
ter of  attention. 

To  begin  with,  then,  what  is  called  voluntary  attention 
is  not  a  wholly  new  phase  of  the  process.  After  the  ac- 
tion of  the  will  has  supervened,  the  forces  of  non-voluntary 
attention  continue  to  be  active  as  tendencies.  And  the 
range  of  the  will's  action  is  limited  by  these.  Thus  the 
student  most  practiced  in  abstraction  finds  that  there  is 
some  force  of  external  stimulus,  as  the  allurement  of  a 
beautiful  melody  sung  within  his  hearing,  against  which 
his  will  is  impotent. 

Again,   though  we   can   undoubtedly  (within  certain 


FUNCTION  OF   THE    WILL  IN  ATTENTION.   75 

limits)  direct  our  attention  in  this  or  that  quarter  at  will, 
we  have  not  the  power  to  keep  our  attention  closely  and 
persistently  fixed  on  any  object  which  we  (or  somebody 
else  for  us)  may  happen  to  select.  Something  further  is 
necessary  to  that  lively  interaction  of  mind  and  object 
which  we  call  a  state  of  attention  ;  and  this  is  interest. 
By  an  act  of  will  a  person  may  resolve  to  turn  his  atten- 
tion to  something,  say  a  passage  in  a  book.  But  if,  after 
this  preliminary  process  of  adjustment  of  the  mental  eye, 
the  subject-matter  opens  up  no  interesting  phase,  no  effort 
of  volition  will  produce  a  calm,  settled  state  of  concentra- 
tion. The  will  introduces  mind  and  object  :  it  can  not 
force  an  attachment  between  them.  No  compulsion  of  a 
teacher  ever  succeeded  in  making  a  young  mind  cordially 
embrace  and  appropriate  by  an  act  of  concentration  an 
unsuitable,  and  therefore  uninteresting  subject.  We  thus 
see  that  voluntary  attention  is  not  removed  from  the  sway 
of  interest.  What  the  will  does  is  to  determine  the  kind 
of  interest  which  shall  prevail  at  the  moment. 

The  importance  of  this  initial  action  of  will,  in  deter- 
mining the  direction  of  attention,  depends  on  the  fact  that 
in  many  cases  a  strong  interest  is  only  developed  after  the 
mind  and  the  subject-matter  have  remained  in  contact 
awhile.  Many  subjects  do  not  disclose  their  attractions 
at  once  and  on  the  surface,  but  only  after  they  have  been 
more  closely  examined.  Thus  the  charm  of  a  poem  or  of 
a  geometrical  problem  makes  itself  felt  gradually.  Hence, 
if  a  child  can  be  induced  to  exercise  his  will  at  the  outset, 
under  the  influence  of  some  internal  motive  disconnected 
with  the  subject,  as  the  desire  to  please  his  parents  or 
teacher,  or  to  gain  some  tangible  advantage  from  the 
study,  he  will  often  come  under  the  sj>ell  of  new  and  un- 
suspected varieties  of  interest.  Indeed,  the  taking  up  of 
any  new  branch  of  study  illustrates  this  gradual  substitu- 
tion of  an  easy,  agreeable  activity  for  a  comparatively  hard 
and  disagreeable  one. 


76  ATTENTION. 

Growth  of  Attention :  Early  Stage.— After  this 
account  of  the  nature  and  laws  of  attention  and  its  two 
chief  forms,  a  few  words  will  suffice  to  indicate  the  suc- 
cessive phases  of  its  growth.  As  has  been  observed,  the 
early  form  of  attention  is  the  reflex  or  non-voluntary.  By 
frequent  exercises  of  its  activity  in  response  to  external 
stimuli  the  power  attains  a  certain  degree  of  development 
independently  of  any  aid  from  the  will.  By  this  is  meant 
that,  after  a  certain  number  of  exercises,  less  powerful 
stimuli  suffice,  in  the  absence  of  more  powerful  ones,  to 
call  forth  attention.  Thus,  by  directing  his  attention  again 
and  again  to  bright  objects,  as  the  candle,  the  infant  is 
preparing  to  direct  it  (still  non-voluntarily)  to  the  mother's 
face,  his  own  hands,  etc.,  when  these  objects  happen  to 
come  into  the  field  of  view.  With  the  progress  of  life, 
too,  many  things  at  first  indifferent  acquire  an  interest. 
Thus  the  accompaniments  of  what  is  intrinsically  interest- 
ing would  acquire  (according  to  the  principle  of  associ- 
ation) a  borrowed  or  derived  interest.  In  this  way  the 
infant  tends  to  watch  the  movements  and  doings  of  his 
nurse,  mother,  etc. ;  the  boy  comes  to  take  an  interest  in 
the  construction  of  his  kite,  and  so  on.  Not  only  so,  the 
range  of  interesting  objects  would  be  greatly  extended  by 
the  development  of  new  feelings,  such  as  the  sense  of  the 
grotesque,  the  feeling  for  what  is  beautiful,  affection,  etc. 

Development  of  Power  of  controlling  the  At- 
tention.— While  this  exercise  of  the  power  of  attention  in 
the  reflex  form  is  thus  going  on,  the  child's  will  is  also  de- 
veloping. The  simplest  manifestation  of  voluntary  atten- 
tion may  perhaps  be  found  in  the  contmued  gazing  at  an 
agreeable  object,  such  as  a  brightly  colored  toy  or  picture, 
held  before  the  eye ;  for  here,  as  pointed  out  above,  there 
is  a  vague  anticipation  of  further  pleasure.  A  more  dis- 
tinctly marked  development  of  will-power  is  manifested  in 
the  attitude  of  expectation.  From  a  very  early  period  of 
life  the  will  begins  to  manifest  itself  in  a  deliberate  explor- 


ATTENTION   TO    THE   UNIMPRESSIVE. 


77 


ing  or  looking  out  for  objects  to  inspect  or  examine.*  By 
such  successive  exercises  the  activity  of  attention  is  little 
by  little  brought  under  perfect  control.  Although  the  full 
understanding  of  this  process  presupposes  a  knowledge 
of  the  growth  of  will  as  a  whole,  we  may  be  able  to  antici- 
pate to  some  extent,  and  indicate  the  main  lines  of  this 
progress. 

The  growth  of  voluntary  attention  means  a  continual 
reduction  of  the  difficulty  of  attending  to  objects.  The 
law  that  exercise  strengthens  faculty  applies  to  attention. 
What  is  first  done  with  labor  and  sense  of  difficulty  is, 
with  repetition  and  practice,  done  more  and  more  easily. 
At  the  same  time  more  and  more  difficult  tasks  become 
possible.  The  growth  of  attention  may  be  best  treated  by 
distinguishing  between  the  several  forms  in  which  this 
progressive  mastery  of  difficulty  manifests  itself. 

Attention  to  the  Unimpressive. — Voluntary  atten- 
tion is  obviously  a  going  beyond  the  range  of  powerful  and 
directly  interesting  stimuli,  and  an  embracing  of  a  wider 
circle  of  comparatively  unimpressive  and  only  indirectly 
interesting  objects.  The  progress  of  attention  can  be 
measured  under  this  aspect.  The  child  learns  gradually 
to  fix  with  his  eye  the  less  striking,  prominent,  and  attract- 
ive objects  and  events  of  the  world  in  which  he  lives. 
When  no  strongly  impressive  objects  are  present,  the  very 
impulse  of  activity  will  insure  a  certain  amount  of  atten- 
tion to  less  conspicuous  and  striking  ones.  Moreover, 
each  successive  exercise  of  the  attention  makes  subsequent 
exercises  easier,  and  the  growth  of  mind  as  a  whole  implies 

*  Prof.  Preyer  says  that  the  child  begins  to  explore  the  field  of  vis- 
ion in  search  of  objects  before  the  end  of  the  third  month.  ("  Die 
Seele  des  Kindes,"  p.  33.)  He  puts  the  first  appearance  of  volition, 
properly  so  called,  a  month  or  two  later.  This  suggests  that  the  simple 
action  here  spoken  of  is  a  transition  from  the  reflex  to  the  voluntary 
form  of  attention.  On  the  other  hand,  M.  Perez  thinks  he  discovers 
the  germ  of  voluntary  attention  at  the  age  of  two  months  and  six  days. 
("The  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p.  112.) 


78  ATTENTION. 

the  constant  addition  of  new  needs  and  impulses  which 
would  insure  a  wider  range  of  attention. 

Resistance  to  Stimuli. — A  voluntary  control  of  the 
attention  involves,  in  the  second  place,  the  ability  to  resist 
the  soHcitations  of  extraneous  and  distracting  objects. 
Voluntarily  to  turn  the  mind  to  a  thing  is  to  exclude  what 
is  irrelevant.  This  power  of  resistance  has,  of  course,  in 
every  case  its  limits.  Nobody  can  withstand  the  disturb- 
ing force  of  a  sudden  explosion.  But  the  capability  of 
resisting  such  distractions  varies  considerably,  and  is 
greatly  improved  by  practice.  The  child,  when  sent  to 
school,  finds  it  hard  at  first  not  to  look  at  his  companions, 
or  out  of  the  window,  when  a  lesson  is  being  given.  By- 
and-by  he  will  be  able  to  fix  his  mind  on  his  lesson,  even 
when  some  amount  of  disturbing  noise  is  present.  The 
highest  attainment  of  this  power  is  seen  in  the  student 
whose  mind  is  "  abstracted  "  from  external  impressions, 
being  wholly  absorbed  in  internal  reflection. 

Keeping  the  Attention  fixed. — Another  aspect, 
under  which  the  growth  of  attention  may  be  estimated,  is 
the  ability  to  detain  objects  before  the  mind.  As  we  have 
seen,  reflex  attention  is,  for  the  most  part,  a  process  of  flit- 
ting from  object  to  object.  We  found,  indeed,  that  even 
here  there  is  a  force  at  work  which  tends  to  counteract  the 
impulse  to  skip  from  one  thing  to  another.  But  this  would 
not  of  itself  carry  us  very  far.  It  is  only  as  the  attention 
comes  under  the  control  of  the  will  that  it  shows  any  con- 
siderable measure  of  persistence.  To  attend  to  a  thing 
voluntarily  means  commonly  to  keep  the  mind  dwelling  on 
it.  The  ordinary  school  exercises  involve  such  a  prolonged 
and  sustained  effort  of  attention.  Thus,  in  counting,  the 
mind  has  to  keep  steadily  in  view  the  result  of  each  of  the 
successive  operations  as  it  is  reached.  The  wandering  of 
the  thoughts  for  an  instant  would  be  fatal  to  the  achieve- 
ment of  the  whole  process.  So,  in  following  a  description, 
a  demonstration  in  Euclid,  and  so  forth. 


CONCENTRA  TION. 


79 


Here,  again,  we  have  to  recognize  the  existence  of  cer- 
tain limits  in  every  case.  Nobody  can  fix  his  mind  on  one 
and  the  same  object — say  a  geometrical  figure — for  an  in- 
definite time.  When  once  the  fresh  interest  of  a  thing  is 
exhausted,  a  further  fixing  of  the  attention  costs  more  and 
more  effort.  Nor  can  a  pupil  carry  on  a  sustained  effort 
of  attention  through  an  indefinitely  long  arithmetical  or 
other  operation.  The  brain  is  soon  wearied  by  the  pro- 
longed exertion,  and  attention  flags  in  spite  of  the  utmost 
effort.  But  the  limit  of  fatigue  is  pushed  further  off  as 
the  will  develops  and  the  act  of  attention  becomes  more 
easy. 

Concentration. — The  power  of  sustained  attention 
grows  with  the  ability  to  resist  distractions  and  solicita- 
tions. The  two  capabilities  are  thus  very  closely  con- 
nected with  one  another,  and  are  both  included  in  the 
term  concentration.  To  concentrate  the  mind  is  to  fix  it 
persistently  on  an  object  or  group  of  objects,  resolutely 
excluding  from  the  mental  view  all  irrelevant  objects. 
The  great  field  for  the  early  exercises  of  such  concentra- 
tion is  action.  When  the  child  wants  to  do  something,  as 
open  a  box,  or  build  a  pile  of  bricks,  the  strong  desire  for 
the  end  secures  a  prolonged  effort  of  attention.  The 
scholar  patiently  poring  over  a  mutilated  passage  in  an 
ancient  MS.,  to  the  neglect  of  his  appetite,  or  the  natural- 
ist patiently  observing  the  movements  of  insects  or  of 
plants,  indifferent  to  cold  and  wet,  illustrates  a  high 
power  of  prolonged  concentration.  A  person's  power  of 
attention  may  be  conveniently  measured  by  the  degree  of 
persistence  attained. 

Concentration  and  Intellectual  Power. — It  has 
often  been  said  that  great  intellectual  power  turns  on  the 
ability  to  concentrate  the  attention.  Newton  based  his 
intellectual  superiority  on  this  circumstance.  Helvetius 
observed  that  genius  is  nothing  but  a  continued  attention. 
A  proposition  about  which  there  is  so  general  an  agree- 


8o  ATTENTION. 

ment  among  those  who  ought  to  know  may  be  safely  ac- 
cepted as  expressing  a  truth.  Attention  is  a  condition  of 
all  intellectual  achievement,  and  a  good  power  of  pro- 
longed concentration  is  undoubtedly  indispensable  to  first- 
rate  achievement  in  any  direction.  The  discoverers  of 
new  knowledge  have  always  been  distinguished  by  an 
unusual  degree  of  pertinacity  in  brooding  over  a  subject, 
and  in  following  out  trains  of  thought  in  this  and  that 
direction  till  the  required  explanation  of  fact,  reconcili- 
ation of  apparent  contradictions,  and  so  on,  was  found. 
But  though  these  sayings  undoubtedly  embody  an  impor- 
tant truth,  they  only  contain  a  part  of  the  whole  truth.  No 
amount  of  attention  simply  will  constitute  intellectual 
eminence.  The  dull,  slow,  but  exceedingly  plodding 
child  is  a  familiar  type  to  the  teacher.  Success  of  the 
higher  order  depends  on  the  possession  of  the  intellectual 
functions  (discrimination,  etc.)  in  an  exceptionally  perfect 
form.  On  the  other  hand,  good  intellectual  powers,  when 
aided  by  a  comparatively  small  power  of  prolonged  atten- 
tion, may  render  their  possessor  quick  and  intelligent. 

Grasp  of  Attention. — As  was  pointed  out  above,  the 
mind  has  a  certain  power  of  including  a  number  of  objects 
in  one  glance,  and  this  power  underlies  the  apprehension 
of  all  relations,  such  as  symmetry  of  form,  similarity  be- 
tween objects,  etc.  The  acquisition  of  this  grasp  is  one 
of  the  most  valuable  results  of  the  growth  of  the  power  of 
voluntary  attention.  Only  as  this  power  is  developed  will 
it  be  possible  for  the  teacher  to  take  his  pupil  on  to  the 
higher  intellectual  exercises,  such  as  the  understanding  of 
geometrical  relations  of  the  more  complicated  kind,  the 
processes  of  comparing  a  number  of  things  with  a  view  to 
abstraction,  the  logical  analysis  of  sentences,  arguments, 
and  so  forth.  This  form  of  attention,  like  the  other  forms, 
needs  its  own  special  modes  of  exercise  to  develop  and 
improve  it. 

We  must  distinguish  this  power  of  carrying  the  atten- 


VARIETIES  OF  ATTENTIVE  POWER.         8 1 

tion  quickly  over  a  number  of  connected  details  from 
another  variety  of  attention  closely  akin  to  it,  viz.,  the 
capability  of  transferring  the  mental  glance  from  one 
thing  to  another  and  disconnected  thing.  This  capability 
is  illustrated  in  a  striking  form  in  the  rapid  movements  of 
the  versatile  mind  from  one  subject  of  conversation,  one 
region  of  ideas  to  another.  This  power  of  rapid  trans- 
ference, though  valuable  in  many  intellectual  exercises,  is 
of  far  less  value  than  the  power  of  mentally  bringing  a 
number  of  details  together  as  parts  of  one  whole.  It  is 
plain,  too,  that  it  is  in  a  manner  opposed  to  prolonged 
concentration  upon  one  subject. 

Habits  of  Attention. — Voluntary  attention,  like  vol- 
untary action  as  a  whole,  is  perfected  in  the  form  pi  habits. 
By  a  habit  we  mean  a  fixed  disposition  to  do  a  thing,  and 
a  facility  in  doing  it,  the  result  of  numerous  repetitions  of 
the  action.  The  growth  of  the  power  of  attention  may  be 
viewed  as  a  progressive  formation  of  habits.  At  first  vol- 
untary concentration  of  mind  requires  a  spur  and  an  effort. 
As  soon  as  the  pressure  of  strong  motive  is  withdrawn,  the 
young  mind  returns  to  its  natural  state  of  listlessness  or 
wandering  attention.  A  habit  of  attention  first  appears  as 
a  recurring  readiness  to  attend  under  definite  circum- 
stances, for  example  when  the  child  goes  into  his  class- 
room, or  is  addressed  by  somebody.  This  is  what  Miss 
Edgeworth  calls  a  habit  of  associated  attention.  Later  on 
there  manifests  itself  a  more  permanent  attitude  of  atten- 
tiveness.  The  transition  from  childhood  to  youth  is  often 
characterized  by  the  acquisition  of  a  more  general  atti- 
tude of  mental  watchfulness,  showing  itself  in  thoughtful- 
ness  about  what  is  seen  and  heard.  The  highest  result  of 
the  working  of  the  principle  of  habit  in  this  region  is  illus- 
trated in  the  customary,  and  but  rarely  relaxed,  alertness 
of  mind  of  the  artistic  or  scientific  observer  of  nature. 

Varieties  of  Attentive  Power. — It  has  been  im- 
plied that  the  power  of  attention  develops  very  unequally 


82  A  TTENTION, 

in  different  individual  cases.  With  some  this  power  never 
reaches  a  high  point  at  all ;  these  are  the  children  of  slug- 
gish attention,  the  "saunterers,"  to  use  Locke's  expression, 
who  form  the  teacher's  crux.  Again,  owing  to  differences 
of  native  endowment,  as  well  as  of  exercise,  we  find  well- 
marked  contrasts  in  the  special  direction  which  the  atten- 
tive power  assumes.  And  these  help,  to  a  considerable 
extent,  to  determine  the  cast  or  character  of  the  indi- 
vidual intelligence.  Everybody  knows  the  difference,  for 
example,  between  the  plodding  child,  able  to  concentrate 
his  mind  on  an  object  for  a  long  period,  but  slow  to 
transfer  and  adjust  his  attention  to  new  matter,  and  the 
quick  but  rather  superficial  child — the  volatile  genius,  ac- 
cording to  Miss  Edgeworth,  who  finds  it  easy  to  direct  his 
attention  to  new  objects,  though  hard  to  keep  it  fixed  for 
a  prolonged  period.  There  are  many  students  who  are 
capable  of  great  intensity  of  concentration  under  favor- 
able circumstances,  but  whose  minds  are  easily  over- 
powered by  disturbing  or  distracting  influences.  Finally, 
the  ruling  habits  of  attention  will  vary  according  to  the 
character  of  the  predominant  interests.  Thus,  for  ex- 
ample, a  strong  love  of  nature  (whether  scientific  or 
artistic)  will  give  a  habitual  outward  bent  to  the  atten- 
tion ;  whereas  a  paramount  interest  in  our  own  feelings, 
or  in  the  objects  of  imagination  and  thought,  will  give  a 
customary  inward  inclination  to  the  attention. 

Training  of  the  Attention. — All  intellectual  guid- 
ance of  the  young  manifestly  implies  the  power  of  holding 
their  attention.  Instruction  may  be  said  to  begin  when 
the  mother  can  secure  the  attention  of  the  infant  to  an 
object  by  pointing  her  finger  to  it.  Henceforth  she  has 
the  child's  mental  life  to  a  certain  extent  under  her  con- 
trol, and  can  select  the  impressions  which  shall  give  new 
knowledge  or  new  enjoyment.  What  we  mark  off  as 
formal  teaching,  whether  by  the  presentation  of  external 
objects  for  inspection  through   the  senses,  or  by  verbal 


TRAINING  OF   THE  ATTENTION.  83 

instruction,  clearly  involves  at  every  stage  an  appeal  to 
the  attention,  and  depends  for  its  success  on  securing  this. 
To  know  how  to  exercise  the  attention,  how  to  call  forth 
its  full  activity,  is  thus  the  first  condition  of  success  in 
education. 

Mental  science  here,  as  in  respect  of  the  other  faculties, 
can  only  point  out  the  general  conditions  to  be  observed, 
and  the  natural  order  of  procedure.  It  is  plain,  in  the 
first  place,  that  the  laws  of  attention  must  be  complied 
with.  He  would  be  a  foolish  teacher  who  gave  a  child  a 
number  of  disconnected  things  to  do  at  a  time,  or  who 
insisted  on  keeping  his  mind  bent  on  the  same  subject 
for  an  indefinite  period.  Yet,  though  these  conditions 
are  obvious  enough,  others  are  more  easily  overlooked. 
Thus  it  is  probable  that  a  more  exact  knowledge  of  the 
effects  on  the  attention  of  novelty  of  subject  and  mode  of 
treatment,  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  total  unfamiliarity  on 
the  other  hand,  would  save  teachers  from  many  errors. 
Some  of  us  can  recall  from  our  school-days  the  wearisome 
effect  of  an  oft-recurring  stereotyped  illustration,  as  well 
as  the  impression  of  repellent  strangeness  produced  by  a 
first,  and  too  sudden,  introduction  to  a  perfectly  new 
branch  of  study. 

In  the  second  place,  it  will  be  well  to  bear  in  mind  that 
the  young  child's  power  of  voluntary  attention  is  rudi- 
mentary only,  and  that  force  must  be  economized  by  re- 
moving all  obstacles  and  making  the  task  as  attractive  and 
agreeable  as  possible.  It  would  be  idle  to  try  to  enlist  his 
close  attention  if  he  were  bodily  fatigued,  or  if  he  were 
under  the  influence  of  emotional  excitement,  and  agitated 
in  mind  and  body.  Again,  it  would  be  vain  to  expect  him 
to  listen  to  oral  instruction  close  to  a  window  looking  out 
on  a  busy  street.  Children's  (uncontrolled)  attention 
flows  outward  to  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  actual 
external  world,  and  is  less  easily  diverted  by  the  teacher's 
words  toward  the  world  of  imagination  and  thought. 
7 


84  ATTENTION. 

Consequently,  in  teaching,  everything  should  be  done  to 
reduce  the  force  of  outward  things.  The  teacher  would 
do  well  to  remember  that  even  so  practiced  a  thinker  as 
Kant  found  it  helpful  to  prolonged  meditation  to  fix  his 
eye  on  a  familiar  and  therefore  unexciting  object  (a 
neighboring  church-spire).  Not  only  so,  the  subject  and 
mode  of  treatment  chosen  should  be  such  as  to  attract  the 
learner's  attention  to  the  utmost  What  is  fresh,  interest- 
ing, or  associated  with  some  pleasurable  interest,  will 
secure  and  hold  the  attention  when  dry  topics  altogether 
fail  to  do  so.  Much  may  be  done  in  this  direction  by 
preparation,  by  awakening  curiosity,  and  by  putting  the 
child's  mind  in  the  attitude  of  tiptoe  expectancy. 

As  the  pupil  grows,  more  may  of  course  be  required  in 
the  shape  of  a  voluntary  effort  to  attend.  It  must  never 
be  forgotten,  however,  that  alF  through  life  forced  atten- 
tion to  what  is  wholly  uninteresting  is  not  only  wearying, 
but  is  certain  to  be  ineffectual  and  unproductive.  Hence, 
the  rule  to  adapt  the  work  to  the  growing  intellectual  and 
other  likings  of  the  child.  Not  only  so,  the  teacher 
should  regard  it  as  an  important  part  of  the  training  of 
the  attention  to  arouse  interest,  to  deepen  and  fix  it  in 
certain  definite  directions,  and  gradually  to  enlarge  its 
range.*  Harder  task-work,  such  as  learning  the  com- 
paratively uninteresting  letters  of  the  alphabet,  or  the 
notes  of  the  musical  scale,  must  be  introduced  gradually, 
and  only  when  the  will-power  is  sufficiently  developed. 
Great  care  must  be  taken  further  to  graduate  the  length 
or  duration  of  the  mental  application,  both  in  a  particular 
direction  and  generally,  in  accordance  with  the  progress 
of  the  child's  powers  of  voluntary  attention.  An  ideal 
school-system  would  exhibit  all  gradations  in  this  respect ; 

*  Volkmann  remarks  that  the  older  psedagogic  had  as  its  rule, 
"  Make  your  instruction  interesting"  ;  whereas  the  newer  has  the  pre- 
cept, "  Instruct  in  such  a  way  that  an  interest  may  awake  and  remain 
active  for  life  "  ("  Lehrbuch  der  Psychologic,"  vol.  ii,  p.  200). 


TRAINING  OF   THE  ATTENTION.  85 

alternation  and  complete  remission  of  mental  activity  be- 
ing frequent  at  first,  and  growing  less  and  less  so  as  the 
powers  of  prolonged  concentration  develop. 

APPENDIX. 

On  the  early  development  of  attention,  see  Perez,  "  First  Three 
Years  of  Childhood,"  chap.  viii.  The  characteristics  of  children's  at- 
tention and  the  laws  of  the  growth  of  attention  are  well  described  by 
Waitz,  "  Lehrbuch  der  Psychologic,"  §  55  ;  and  by  Volkmann,  "  Lehr- 
buch  der  Psychologic,"  vol.  ii,  §  114. 

On  the  training  of  the  attention,  see  Locke,  "  Some  Thoughts  con- 
cerning Education,"  §  167  ;  Maria  Edgeworth,  "Essays  on  Practical 
Education,"  vol.  i,  chap.  ii.  Beneke,  "  Erziehungs-  und  Unterrichts- 
lehre,"  4th  ed.,  vol.  i,  ^  19;  Th.  Waitz,  "  Allgemeine  Psedagogik," 
vol.  i,  §  23  ;  and  G.  Compayre,  *'  Cours  de  Pedagogic,"  le9on  v.  The 
effects  of  a  lively  mode  of  presenting  subjects  of  instruction  in  exciting 
and  detaining  attention  are  well  brought  out  by  Mr.  Arthur  Sidgwick 
in  his  lecture  on  "  Stimulus "  ("  Three  Lectures  on  the  Practice  of 
Education  "—Pitt  Press  Series).  Cf.  X"-  W.  Parker,  "  Notes  of  Talks 
on  Teaching,"  xxiv.  ^ 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE    SENSES  :     SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

All  knowledge  takes  its  rise  in  the  senses.  No  intel- 
lectual work,  such  as  imagining  or  reasoning,  can  be  done 
till  the  senses  have  supplied  the  necessary  materials.  These 
materials,  when  reduced  to  their  elements,  are  known  as 
sensations  or  impressions,  such  as  those  of  light  and  color, 
which  we  receive  by  means  of  the  eye,  of  sound,  which  we 
have  by  way  of  the  ear,  and  so  on.  An  examination  of 
oiir  most  abstract  notions,  such  as  force,  matter,  leads  us 
back  to  these  impressions  of  sense.  Our  ideas  respecting 
the  nature  and  properties  of  things  is  limited  by  our  sensa- 
tions. The  want  of  a  sense,  as  in  the  case  of  one  born 
blind,  means  depriving  the  mind  of  a  whole  order  of  ideas. 
The  addition  of  a  new  sense,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible, 
would  enrich  our  minds  by  a  new  kind  of  knowledge  re- 
specting the  world.^ 

Definition  of  Sensation.— A  sensation  being  an  ele- 
mentary mental  phenomenon  can  not  be  defined  in  terms 
of  anything  more  simple.  Its  meaning  can  only  be  indi- 
cated by  a  reference  to  the  nervous  processes  on  which  it 
is  known  to  depend.  Accordingly,  a  sensation  may  be 
defined  as  a  simple  mental  state  resulting  from  the  stimu- 
lation of  the  outer  extremity  of  an  "  incarrying  "  nerve, 
when  this  stimulation  has  been  transmitted  to  the  brain- 
centers.  Thus  the  stimulation  of  a  point  of  the  skin  by 
pressing  or  rubbing,  or  of  the  retina  of  the  eye  by  light, 
gives  rise  to  a  sensation. 


GENERAL  AND   SPECIAL   SENSIBILITY.      87 

These  sensations  have  two  broadly  distinguishable  as- 
pects, one  of  which  is  commonly  predominant.  The  first 
is  the  emotional  aspect,  by  which  is  meant  the  presence  of 
a  distinct  element  of  feeling,  pleasurable  or  painful.  A 
sensation  of  bodily  warmth,  or  of  sweetness,  illustrates  this 
prominence  of  the  element  of  feeling.  The  second  aspect 
is  the  intellectual^  or  knowledge-giving.  By  this  is  meant 
the  presence  of  definite  and  clearly  distinguishable  prop- 
erties, which  may  be  called  marks  or  characters,  because 
they  serve  as  clews  to  the  qualities  of  external  things.  The 
sensation  experienced  on  touching  a  smooth  surface,  or  on 
hearing  a  sound  of  a  particular  pitch  and  loudness,  is  an 
example  of  the  predominance  of  the  intellectual  element. 

General  and  Special  Sensibility. — All  parts  of  the 
organism  supplied  with  sensory  nerves,  and  the  actions  of 
which  are  consequently  fitted  to  give  rise  to  sensations, 
are  said  to  possess  sensibility  of  some  kind.  But  this  prop- 
erty appears  under  one  of  two  very  unlike  forms.  The 
first  of  these  is  common  to  all  sensitive  parts  of  the  organ- 
ism, and  involves  no  special  nervous  structure  at  the  ex- 
tremity. The  second  is  peculiar  to  certain  parts  of  the 
bodily  surface,  and  implies  special  structures  or  "  organs." 
To  the  former  is  given  the  name  common  or  general  sensi- 
bility, and  also  organic  sense  ;  to  the  latter,  special  sensi- 
bility, or  special  sense. 

The  sensations  falling  under  the  head  of  common  sensi- 
bility, or  the  organic  sense,  are  marked  by  absence  of 
definite  characters.  They  are  vague  and  ill-defined.  Their 
distinguishing  peculiarity  is  that  they  have  a  marked 
pleasurable  or  painful  aspect.  Such  are  the  feelings  of 
comfort  and  discomfort  connected  with  the  processes  of 
digestion  and  indigestion,  and  with  injuries  to  the  tissues. 
These  sensations  are  not  directly  connected  with  the  action 
of  external  objects,  but  arise  in  consequence  of  a  certain 
condition  of  the  part  of  the  organism  concerned.  Thus 
they  give  us  no  knowledge  of  the  external  world.     They 


88      THE  SENSES:    SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

are  no  doubt  important  as  informing  us  of  the  condition 
of  the  organism  ;  but,  owing  to  their  vagueness,  they  give 
us  very  little  definite  knowledge  even  of  this. 

The  special  sensations  are  those  we  receive  by  way  of 
the  five  senses.  They  are  marked  off  one  from  another 
by  great  definiteness  of  character.  This  peculiarity  is 
connected  with  the  fact  that  each  sense  has  its  own  spe- 
cially modified  structure  or  "  sense-organ  "  such  as  the  eye, 
or  the  ear,  fitted  to  be  acted  upon  by  a  particular  kind  of 
stimulus  (light-vibrations,  air- waves,  etc.).  Owing  to  this 
definiteness  of  character,  the  special  sensations  are  much 
more  susceptible  of  being  discriminated  and  recognized 
than  the  organic  sensations.  Moreover,  these  sensations 
are  (in  ordinary  cases)  brought  about  by  the  action  of  ex- 
ternal agents  or  objects  lying  outside  the  organism,  and 
are  on  that  account  called  impressions,  or,  better,  sense- 
impressions.*  For  these  reasons  they  are  fitted  to  yield  us 
knowledge  of  the  environment. 

Characters  of  Sensations. — The  importance  of  the 
special  senses  depends,  as  we  have  seen,  on  their  possess- 
ing certain  well-defined  aspects,  whereby  they  are  fitted  to 
be  marks  of  qualities  in  external  objects  as  well  as  of  the 
changes  which  take  place  in  these.  The  two  most  impor- 
tant distinctions  of  character  among  our  sensations  are 
those  of  degree  and  of  kind. 

By  degree  or  intensity  is  meant  a  difference  of  strength, 
as  that  between  a  bright  and  a  faint  light,  or  a  loud  and 
a  soft  sound.  All  classes  of  sensation  exhibit  such  differ- 
ences of  degree.  They  are  of  great  importance  for  knowl- 
edge. Thus  the  degree  of  pressure  of  a  body  on  the  hand 
helps  to  tell  us  of  its  weight. 

By  a  difference  of  kind  or  quality  is  meant  one  of  na- 
ture, as  that  between  sour  and  sweet,  blue  and  red.    These 

*  The  sense-impression  which  we  are  here  concerned  with  is  a  men' 
/a/ phenomenon,  and  must  not  be  confused  with  Wi^  physical  '*  impres- 
sion," as,  for  example,  the  image  of  an  object  on  the  retina. 


THE  FIVE  SENSES.  89 

too  are  marks  of  external  facts.  Thus  we  distinguish  ob- 
jects by  their  colors,  voices  by  their  pitch,  etc. 

The  Five  Senses. —  Coming  now  to  the  senses  in 
detail,  we  see  that  they  do  not  all  exhibit  the  same  degree 
of  definiteness  or  the  same  number  of  distinct  characters. 
We  usually  speak  of  taste  and  smell  as  the  coarse  or  un- 
refined senses,  whereas  hearing  and  sight  are  highly  re- 
fined. By  attending  simply  to  the  degree  of  refinement,  we 
may  arrange  the  senses  in  the  following  ascending  order : 
taste,  smell,  touch,  hearing,  sight.  A  few  words  on  the 
special  function  of  each  must  suffice  here. 

Taste  and  Smell. — These  present  a  decidedly  low 
measure  of  refinement.  Indeed,  the  sensations  of  these 
senses  may  be  said  to  approach  the  organic  sensations  in 
want  of  definiteness,  and  in  the  predominance  of  the  ele- 
ment of  feeling  (pleasure  and  pain).  These  peculiarities 
are  connected  with  the  fact  that  these  senses  have  as  their 
function  the  determination  of  what  is  wholesome  or  un- 
wholesome to  the  organism  as  a  whole.  The  very  position 
of  the  organs,  at  the  entrance  of  the  digestive  and  respira- 
tory cavities,  suggests  that  they  are  sentinels  to  warn  us  as 
to  what  is  good  or  ill.  The  sensations  of  taste  and  smell  are 
easily  confused  one  with  another,  and  can  not  be  definite- 
ly distinguished  either  in  degree  or  quality.  For  this  and 
other  reasons,  they  are  of  little  importance  as  knowledge- 
giving  senses.  It  is  only  under  special  circumstances,  as 
those  of  the  chemist,  the  wine-taster,  and  so  on,  that  these 
"  servants  of  the  body  "  supply  a  quantity  of  exact  knowl- 
edge about  the  properties  of  external  objects. 

Touch. — By  the  sense  of  touch  is  meant  the  sensa- 
tions we  receive  through  the  stimulation  of  certain  nerves 
terminating  in  the  skin  by  bodies  in  contact  with  it.  These 
are  either  sensations  of  mere  contact  or  pressure,  or  those 
of  temperature. 

These  supply  important  elements  of  feeling.  Thus, 
contact  with  smooth  surfaces  and  with  warm  bodies  is 


90 


THE  SENSES:   SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 


one  chief  source  of  sensuous  pleasure,  especially  in  early 
life. 

The  chief  importance  of  touch  is,  however,  under  its 
intellectual  aspect.  In  its  highest  form  as  it  presents  itself 
at  definite  portions  of  the  bodily  surface,  more  particular- 
ly the  hands,  and  especially  the  finger-tips  (with  which  the 
lips  may  be  reckoned),  the  tactile  sensibility  becomes  a 
most  important  means  of  ascertaining  the  properties  of 
bodies.  The  sensations  of  touch  have  a  much  higher  de- 
gree of  definiteness  than  those  of  taste  and  smell. 

The  discrimination  of  degrees  of  pressure  by  the  tac- 
tile sense  is  estimated  by  laying  a  weight  on  the  hand  or 
some  other  part,  and  then  trying  how  much  must  be  taken 
away  or  added  in  order  that  a  difference  may  be  felt.* 
It  is  found  that  the  discriminative  sensibility  varies  con- 
siderably at  different  regions  of  the  bodily  surface.  Foi 
instance,  on  the  anterior  surface  of  the  fingers  the  differ- 
ence of  pressure  detected  is  about  one  half  of  that  recog- 
nized on  their  posterior  surface. 

This  discrimination  of  degrees  of  pressure  by  the  skm 
is  one  of  the  means  by  which  we  obtain  knowledge  of  the 
force  exerted  by  bodies,  e.  g.,  the  difference  when  a  heavy 
and  a  light  body  press  against  us.  It  also  assists  in  giving 
us  information  respecting  the  weight  of  bodies. 

In  the  case  of  touch  we  have  a  further  difference  of 
sensation  which  may  be  called  local  distinction  of  sensa- 
tion, or  local  discrimination.  By  this  is  meant  the  fact 
that  we  can  distinguish  a  number  of  similar  touches  when 
different  points  of  the  skin  are  stimulated.  This  discrimi- 
nation of  points,  like  that  of  degrees  of  pressure,  varies  at 
different  parts  of  the  bodily  surface.  It  is  much  finer  in 
*he  mobile   parts  of  the  body  (hands,  feet,  lips,  etc.)  than 

*  If  the  hand  is  the  part  selected,  it  must  be  supported  by  some 
object,  as  a  table.  Only  in  this  way  can  we  test  the  tactile  sensibility 
to  pressure  apart  from  the  muscular  sensibility  to  be  spoken  of  pres- 
ently. 


TOUCH.  91 

in  the  comparatively  fixed  parts  (the  trunk).  Again,  it  is 
finer  on  the  anterior  than  on  the  posterior  surface  of  the 
hand,  and  decreases  rapidly  as  we  recede  from  the  finger- 
tips toward  the  wrist  and  elbow.  We  see  from  this  that 
the  finger-tips  are  specially  marked  out  as  the  organ  of 
tactile  sensibility.* 

This  local  separation  of  tactile  sensations  is  of  the 
greatest  consequence  for  knowledge.  First  of  all,  it  is  this 
capability,  added  to  the  discrimination  of  pressure,  which 
forms  the  basis  of  our  tactile  discrimination  of  roughness 
and  smoothness.  A  very  rough  surface,  such  as  that  of  a 
piece  of  unplaned  wood  or  of  sand-paper,  is  appreciated  as 
such  by  differences  of  pressure  corresponding  to  eminences 
and  depressions  at  various  points  of  the  surface.  In  esti- 
mating a  rough  surface,  therefore,  we  must  both  distinguish 
the  several  points  and  the  degrees  of  pressure  at  these. 
The  sense  of  roughness  and  its  opposite  in  their  various 
degrees  is  of  importance  in  ascertaining  not  only  the  na- 
ture of  a  surface,  but  also  the  texture  of  a  substance,  as 
the  fibrous  texture  of  wood,  woven  materials,  etc. 

In  the  second  place,  this  local  discrimination  forms  the 
foundation  of  the  tactile  knowledge  of  what  is  called  ex- 
tension, or  the  extendedness  of  outer  things,  by  which  is 
meant  the  fact  that  they  have  parts  occupying  different 
positions  in  space ;  as  well  as  the  various  modifications  of 
this  extendedness  which  constitute  differences  of  form  and 
magnitude  in  objects,  as  differences  of  direction  and 
length  of  line,  form  and  extent  of  surface,  etc.  It  is  by 
laying  the  hand  or  the  two  hands  on  the  surface  of  an  ob- 
ject, such  as  a  book,  that  we  learn  something  of  its  figure 
and  size. 

Finally,  under  touch  is  commonly  included  the  sense  of 
temperature  or  the  thermal  sense.  It  is  now  known  that 
Ihis  sensibility  is  connected  with  special  nerve-structure 

*  The  tip  of  the  tongue  and  the  lips  are  also  highly  endowed  with 
tactile  discrimination. 


92       THE  SENSES:   SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

distinct  from  those  of  the  tactile  sense  proper,  and  not  va- 
rying in  the  same  way  as  this  varies  at  different  portions 
of  the  bodily  surface.  Hence  the  thermal  sense  is  a  sepa- 
rate sense.  At  the  same  time,  we  usually  test  the  temper- 
ature of  bodies  by  touching  them,  and  this  with  the  fin- 
gers. And  the  appreciation  of  temperature  thus  takes  place 
in  close  connection  with  that  of  their  tangible  properties. 
The  child  learns  to  know  a  metal  and  to  distinguish  it 
from  wood  partly  by  the  differences  in  the  thermal  sensa- 
tions.* 

Active  Touch. — So  far  we  have  considered  touch 
merely  as  a  passive  sense,  i.  e.,  as  sensibility  to  the  action 
of  things  on  the  tactile  surface.  But  the  fact  that  we 
speak  of  touching  bodies  as  our  own  action  shows  that  it 
is  an  active  sense  as  well.  In  touching,  we  ourselves  bring 
the  organ  into  contact  with  substances,  and  so  secure  its 
exercise.  In  other  words,  the  organ  is  supplied  with  mus- 
cles, the  action  of  which  is  of  very  great  importance  as 
enlarging  the  range  of  our  experience  and  knowledge. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  advantage  of  this  adjunct 
of  muscular  activity  is  the  multiplication  of  tactile  impres- 
sions. Just  as  the  mobility  of  the  insect's  antennae  en- 
ables it  to  gain  many  more  impressions  of  touch  than  it 
would  have  if  the  organs  were  fixed,  so  the  mobile  arm, 
hand,  and  fingers  of  the  child  greatly  extend  the  range  of 
his  tactile  experiences.  By  such  movements  he  is  able  to 
bring  the  most  sensitive  part  of  the  organ  (the  tips  of  the 
fingers)  into  contact  with  a  large  number  of  objects,  and 
further  to  gain  impressions  of  these  in  rapid  succession, 
and  so  discriminate  them  better  one  from  the  other. 

This  widening  and  perfecting  of  passive  impressions  is, 

*  This  knowledge  is  less  valuable  than  that  of  form  or  weight, 
partly  because  sensations  of  temperature  are  very  variable,  depending 
on  the  temperature  of  the  organ  itself,  and  partly  because  the  temper- 
ature of  bodies  is  a  changing  state,  and  not  a  fixed,  invariable  property, 
as  weight. 


MUSCULAR   SENSE.  q3 

however,  only  one  part  of  the  gain  resulting  from  the  high 
degree  of  mobility  of  the  hand  and  the  eye.  Another  and 
no  less  important  part  is  the  new  experience  which  accom- 
panies these  movements,  and  which  constitutes  a  distinct 
and  very  important  source  of  knowledge.  This  experience 
is  known  as  the  muscular  sense. 

Muscular  Sense. — By  this  expression  is  meant  the 
sum  of  those  peculiar  "  sensations  "  of  which  we  are  aware 
when  we  voluntarily  exercise  our  muscles.  These  have 
well-marked  characters  of  their  own.  They  constitute 
distinctly  active  states.  In  singing,  in  moving  the  arm  or 
leg,  in  pushing  a  heavy  body,  we  have  a  sense  of  being 
bodily  active,  or  of  exerting  muscular  energy. 

The  muscular  sense  is  important  both  as  a  source  of 
pleasure  and  as  a  means  of  knowledge.  The  child  de- 
lights to  exercise  his  muscles,  to  feel  his  bodily  power. 
Certain  modes  of  muscular  exercise,  as  rapid  rhythmical 
movement,  are  known  to  be  specially  exhilarating.  It  is, 
however,  chiefly  as  a  source  of  knowledge  that  we  shall 
now  regard  it. 

The  sensations  which  accompany  muscular  action  may 
be  conveniently  divided  into  two  main  varieties.  These 
are  {a)  sensations  of  movement  or  of  unimpeded  energy, 
and  (3)  sensations  of  strain  or  resistance,  that  is,  of  ob- 
structed or  impeded  energy.  The  first  are  illustrated  in 
the  sensations  which  attend  movements  of  the  arms  or 
legs  in  empty  space  ;  the  second  are  exemplified  in  the 
sensations  which  accompany  the  act  of  pushing  against  a 
heavy  object,  or  holding  a  heav/  weight  in  the  hand. 

{a)  Sensations  of  movement  present  two  well-marked 
differences  of  quality  :  (i)  In  the  first  place,  they  vary 
in  character  according  to  the  direction  of  the  movement. 
The  movement  effected  by  one  muscle  or  group  of  mus- 
cles is  felt  to  be  unlike  that  carried  out  by  another.  Thus 
the  sensations  attending  the  movements  of  the  arm  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left,  up  and  down,  are  qualitatively  un- 


94 


THE  SENSES:   SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 


like.  And  it  is  this  difference  in  the  sensations  which 
enables  us  to  ascertain  what  is  the  particular  direction  of 
any  movement  which  we  are  executing.  (2)  In  the  second 
place,  these  sensations  vary  in  character  according  to  the 
velocity  of  the  movement.  The  experience  of  moving  the 
arm  quickly  differs  materially  from  that  of  moving  it  slow- 
ly. And  we  are  able  to  distinguish  many  degrees  of  ve- 
locity, 

(b)  The  sensations  which  arise  when  muscular  energy 
is  impeded,  as  when  we  push  with  the  shoulder  or  arms 
against  a  heavy  body,  drag  it,  or  lift  it,  have  a  distinct 
character  of  their  own.  They  have  been  called  sensations 
of  resistance,  or  "  dead  strain."  They  exhibit,  like  those 
of  movement,  nice  distinctions  of  degree.  We  experience 
a  difference  of  sensation  in  pushing  a  heavy  table  and  one 
less  heavy,  and  in  lifting  a  pound  and  twenty  ounces. 

Each  of  these  modes  of  muscular  experience  consti- 
tutes an  important  additional  source  of  tactile  knowledge. 
In  truth,  our  information  respecting  the  most  fundamental 
properties  of  things  would  be  very  vague  and  rudimentary 
but  for  the  addition  of  the  muscular  sense. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  the  sensations  of  resistance 
which  give  the  child  its  immediate  knowledge  of  the 
deepest  and  most  characteristic  property  of  material 
things,  viz.,  what  is  known  as  impenetrability,  under  its 
various  modes,  as  hardness,  density,  inelasticity,  etc. 
The  mere  sense  of  pressure  gained  by  way  of  an  im- 
mobile organ,  say  a  paralyzed  limb,  could  never  supply 
any  distinct  knowledge  of  this  property  ;  this  is  directly 
revealed  in  the  experience  of  exerting  our  own  energy 
and  finding  it  impeded  by  a  force  other  than  our  own. 
All  our  customary  estimates  of  the  degrees  of  hardness, 
etc.,  of  substances,  are  arrived  at  by  the  aid  of  muscular 
discrimination.  Further,  the  discrimination  of  weight, 
though  possible  to  a  certain  extent  by  way  of  passive 
touch,  is  much  more  accurate  when  the  muscular  sense  is 


HEARING. 


95 


called  in  to  help.  If  a  person  wants  to  estimate  a  weight 
nicely,  he  lifts  it  and  judges  by  means  of  the  degree  of 
force  he  has  to  expend  in  so  doing. 

In  the  second  place,  the  sensations  of  movement  are 
an  important  factor  in  the  knowledge  of  the  extendedness 
of  things,  of  the  relative  position  of  points,  and  of  the 
shape  and  size  of  objects.  The  rudimentary  and  vague 
knowledge  obtainable  by  means  of  the  local  discrimina- 
tion of  the  skin  needs  to  be  rendered  distinct  and  exact 
by  means  of  movement.  Thus,  as  any  one  can  prove  for 
himself,  the  idea  of  the  shape  and  size  of  a  small  pencil, 
or  of  a  ring,  is  made  much  clearer  when  we  pass  the 
finger-tip  along  it  or  round  it,  and  so  judge  of  it  by  the 
direction  and  length  of  the  movements.  The  blind 
habitually  examine  the  form  of  objects  by  the  aid  of 
movement. 

Hearing. — The  sense  of  hearing  ranks  high  both  as 
a  source  of  pleasure  and  as  an  intellectual  or  knowledge- 
giving  sense.  The  sensations  which  form  the  material  of 
music,  those  of  pitch,  together  with  their  combinations  in 
rhythm,  melody,  etc.,  are  among  the  most  agreeable  of 
our  sense-experiences.  But  the  refined  pleasures  of  music 
presuppose  intellectual  capability  in  the  shape  of  the  dis- 
crimination of  notes,  etc.  The  intellectual  value  of  hear- 
ing is  due  to  the  high  degree  of  definiteness  of  its  sen- 
sations. In  respect  both  of  intensity  and  of  quality  fine 
differences  are  recognizable. 

The  high  intellectual  character  of  hearing  shows  itself 
very  conspicuously  in  the  qualitative  differences  among 
sensations  of  sound.  We  have  here  the  broad  contrast 
between  musical  and  non-musical  sounds  or  noises.  The 
former  depend  on  regularly  recurring  or  periodic  vibra- 
tions of  the  air,  the  latter  on  irregularly  recurring  or  non- 
periodic  vibrations.  In  the  case  of  musical  sounds  we 
have  the  remarkable  phenomenon  of  a  scale  of  quality. 
If  we   pass   upward  from  a   low  note   to   a   higher  one 


96      THE  SENSES:   SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

through  all  distinguishable  gradations,  we  experience  a 
continuous  variation  of  sensation  which  is  known  as  that 
of  pitch  or  height.  These  differences  of  pitch  answer  to 
changes  in  the  rate  of  vibration  of  the  medium  (the 
atmosphere)  ;  the  higher  the  note,  the  more  rapid  are  the 
vibrations.  Our  musical  scale  is  made  up  of  distinct 
steps  or  intervals  of  this  continuous  series  of  gradual 
changes. 

Along  with  this  scale  of  pitch-quality,  there  are  the 
differences  known  as  timbre  or  *' musical  quahty."  These 
are  the  qualitative  differences  in  sensations  of  tone  an- 
swering to  differences  in  the  instrument,  as  the  piano,  the 
violin,  the  human  voice. 

In  addition  to  this  wide  range  of  musical  sensation  the 
ear  distinguishes  a  vast  number  of  non-musical  sounds, 
the  characteristic  "  noises  "  of  different  substances,  such  as 
the  roar  of  the  sea,  the  rustling  of  leaves,  and  the  crack  of 
a  whip.  We  distinguish  noises  as  jarring,  grating,  ex- 
plosive, and  so  on.  It  is  this  side  of  hearing  which  is  of 
value  for  the  knowledge  of  external  things.  The  child 
learns  to  recognize  the  characteristic  sounds  produced  by 
moving  objects,  as  the  plash  of  water,  the  rumbling  of 
wheels,  etc. 

Finally,  there  are  what  are  known  as  articulate  sounds, 
those  which  constitute  the  elements  of  speech.  These 
differ  from  one  another  partly  in  point  of  musical  quality. 
Thus,  it  has  been  recently  ascertained  that  the  several 
vowel-sounds  differ  from  one  another  in  much  the  same 
way  as  the  tones  of  different  musical  instruments.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  differences  of  consonantal  sounds  are  non- 
musical  in  character.  In  the  ordinary  classification  of 
these  into  the  gutturals,  sibilants,  etc.,  we  find  differences 
analogous  to  those  among  noises. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  illustrate  the  high  degree  of 
refinement  characterizing  the  sense  of  hearing.  The  deli- 
cate and  far-reaching  discrimination  of  quality,  aided  by 


SIGHT.  97 

the  fine  discrimination  of  duration,  enables  the  ear  to  ac- 
quire a  good  deal  of  exact  information,  as  well  as  to  gain 
a  considerable  amount  of  refined  pleasure.  The  delight 
of  music  sums  up  the  chief  part  of  the  latter.  The  former 
is  illustrated  in  the  wide  range  of  knowledge  derived  by- 
way of  that  system  of  articulate  sounds  known  as  language. 

As  a  set-off  against  these  advantages,  we  see  that  hear- 
ing has  very  little  local  discrimination.  We  can  not  dis- 
tinguish two  or  more  simultaneous  sounds  with  any  nicety- 
according  to  the  position  of  their  external  source.  Nor  is 
the  organ  of  hearing  endowed  with  mobility  as  the  hand 
is.  Hence,  hearing  gives  us  no  direct  knowledge  of  the 
most  important  properties  of  objects,  their  size  and  shape. 

Sight. — The  sense  of  sight  is  by  common  consent 
allowed  the  first  place  in  the  scale  of  refinement.  To  this 
fact  there  corresponds  the  delicate  and  intricate  structure 
of  the  organ,  and  the  subtile  nature  of  the  stimulus  (ether- 
vibration).  The  eye  surpasses  all  other  sense-organs  both 
in  the  range  and  in  the  delicacy  of  its  impressions.  These 
are  at  once  the  source  of  some  of  the  purest  and  most  re- 
fined enjoyment,  the  pleasures  of  light,  color,  and  form, 
and  of  some  of  the  most  valuable  of  our  knowledge. 

In  the  first  place,  the  eye  is  fairly  discriminative  of 
degree.  These  degrees  answer  to  all  distinguishable  grades 
of  brightness  or  luminosity  from  the  self-luminous  bodies 
which  we  are  only  just  capable  of  looking  at,  down  to  the 
objects  which  reflect  a  minimum  of  light,  and  are  known 
as  black.  This  discrimination  is  very  fine,  as  may  be  seen 
in  our  ability  to  note  subtile  differences  of  light  and  shade, 
and  this  delicacy  is  of  the  greatest  importance  in  the  visual 
discrimination  of  objects. 

In  sight,  again,  we  have  numerous  and  fine  differences 
of  quality.  Of  these  the  most  important  are  color-differ- 
ences. The  impressions  of  color,  like  those  of  pitch,  fall 
into  a  series  of  gradual  changes.  Passing  from  one  ex- 
tremity of  the  spectrum  (or  rainbow)  scale  to  another,  the 


98      THE  SENSES:  SENSE-DISCRIMINATION.  . 

eye  experiences  a  series  of  perfectly  gradual  transitions. 
These  changes  fall  into  the  series,  violet,  blue,  green,  yel- 
low, orange,  and  red,  together  with  certain  finer  distinc- 
tions, as  indigo-blue,  greenish  blue.  These  differences  of 
quality  accompany  (as  in  the  case  of  pitch-sensations) 
changes  in  the  rapidity  of  the  vibrations  of  the  stimulus, 
viz.,  the  rays  of  light.  The  rays  at  the  violet  end  have 
more  rapid  vibrations  than  those  at  the  red  end.  These 
color-impressions,  while  an  important  element  of  artistic 
pleasure,  are  of  great  intellectual  importance.  The  eye 
learns  to  know  and  to  recognize  things  in  part  by  means 
of  their  colors. 

In  addition  to  these  differences  of  degree  and  quality 
in  the  sensations  of  sight,  we  have  in  this  sense,  as  in  that 
of  touch,  two  endowments  which  furnish  the  basis  of  a 
perception  of  extension  and  space,  including  the  form  and 
magnitude  of  objects.  The  first  of  these  is  the  discrimi- 
nation of  points  by  means  of  the  distinct  nerve-fibers,  which 
terminate  in  a  mosaic-like  arrangement  in  the  retina. 
Owing  to  this  endowment,  we  can  distinguish  two  points 
of  light,  say  two  stars,  when  they  lie  very  near  one  another. 
This  discrimination  of  points  is  finest  in  the  central  region 
of  the  retina,  known  as  the  area  of  perfect  vision.  It  is 
by  aid  of  this  local  discrimination  that  we  are  able  in  one 
glance  to  distinguish  a  number  of  details  of  form,  such 
as  the  various  parts  of  a  flower  or  the  several  letters  of  a 
word. 

Valuable  as  this  retinal  discrimination  of  points  is  in 
the  perception  of  form,  it  needs  to  be  supplemented  by 
the  muscular  activity  of  the  eye.  The  organ  of  sight  is 
supplied  with  a  system  of  muscles,  by  means  of  which  it 
executes  a  large  variety  of  delicate  and  precise  movements. 
Sight  is  thus,  like  touch,  an  active  sense.  One  result  of 
this  activity,  as  in  the  case  of  touch,  is  to  bring  the  most 
sensitive  part  of  the  organ  opposite  the  object  we  wish  to 
examine.     In  fixing  the  eye  on  a  point,  we  are  obtaining  a 


SENSE-IMPRESSIONS.  gg 

retinal  image  of  it  on  the  area  of  perfect  vision.  Another 
result  is  that,  in  the  act  of  moving  the  eye  from  point  to 
point  of  an  object  or  of  a  scene,  we  bring  the  muscular 
sense  into  play,  and  thus  gain  a  better  impression  of  the 
relative  position  of  the  visible  points,  and  of  the  form  and 
magnitude  of  objects.  It  is  by  tracing  the  path  of  a  line 
with  the  eye  that  we  can  best  appreciate  its  perfect  straight- 
ness,  or  the  exact  degree  of  its  curvature.  In  early  life 
more  particularly  this  is  the  customary  mode  of  acquiring 
knowledge  of  form. 

Attention  to  Sense-Impressions. — For  the  pro- 
duction of  clear  sense-impressions  it  is  not  enough  that 
the  sense-organ  be  stimulated.  There  must  be  a  reaction 
of  the  brain-centers  and  the  co-operation  of  the  mind  in 
the  act  of  attention.  Till  this  reaction  follows,  the  im- 
pression must,  as  pointed  out  in  the  preceding  chapter, 
remain  vague  and  indistinct.  This  direction  of  mental 
activity  to  an  impression  is  the  immediate  condition  of 
assimilating  it  as  intellectual  material.  By  fixing  the  men- 
tal glance  on  it,  the  intellectual  functions  are  brought  to 
bear  on  it,  and  so  it  is  drawn  into  the  store  of  our  mental 
possessions,  ready  to  be  woven  into  the  fabric  of  knowl- 
edge. 

Discrimination  of  Sensation. — At  any  one  time  we 
may  be  acted  upon  by  a  multitude  of  external  stimuli, 
sights,  sounds,  etc.  These  present  themselves  at  first  as 
a  blurred  or  confused  mass.  The  direction  of  attention 
to  any  one  of  them  separates  it  from  the  adjacent  crowd 
and  gives  distinctness  to  it.  This  fact  may  also  be  ex- 
pressed by  saying  that  it  is  "differenced  "  or  discriminated. 
To  have  a  clear  and  definite  sensation  is  to  distinguish  it 
as  something  from  the  other  sensations  immediately  pre- 
ceding  and  accompanying  it.  As  we  have  seen,  this  dis- 
crimination is  much  finer  in  the  case  of  the  higher  senses 
— touch,  hearing,  and  sight. 

Identification  of  Sense-Impressions.— The  direc- 


lOo    THE  SENSES:   SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

tion  of  the  attention  to  a  sense-impression  leads  on  not 
only  to  the  discrimination  of  it.  After  the  repetition  of 
sensations  of  color,  for  example,  a  new  sensation  is  at 
once  identified,  as  one  of  yellow,  green.  This  involves  the 
persistence  of  traces  of  past  similar  sensations,  and  is  a 
rudimentary  form  of  that  assimilation  of  new  material  to 
old  on  which  all  intellectual  development  depends. 

Identification  is  exact  in  proportion  to  the  fineness  of 
the  discrimination.  If  a  child  can  only  say  a  certain  col- 
or is  red,  without  being  able  to  identify  the  precise  shade 
of  red,  he  shows  that  his  discrimination  of  color  is  only 
partially  developed. 

Growth  of  Sense-Capacity. — From  the  above,  it 
follows  that  there  is  an  improvement  of  sense  as  life  ad- 
vances. Although  the  child  has  the  same  sense-organs 
and  the  same  fundamental  modes  of  sensibility  as  the 
man,  his  sensations  are  more  crude,  vague,  and  ill-defined. 
The  repeated  exercise  of  the  senses  in  connection  with 
and  under  the  control  of  attention  leads  to  the  gradual 
differentiation  of  the  several  orders  of  sense-impression, 
and  the  rendering  of  them  definite  in  their  character. 
This  growth  of  sense  involves  two  things  :  {a)  an  increas- 
ing power  of  sense-discrimination,  and  (p)  a  growth  in  the 
power  of  identifying  impressions  through  the  cumulation 
of  "traces."  In  other  words,  our  senses  become  more 
delicate  or  acute  in  distinguishing  impressions,  and  more 
quick  or  keen  in  identifying  them. 

Improvement  of  Sense-Discrimination.— Of  these 
two  aspects  of  sense-improvement,  the  discriminative  is 
the  more  important,  since  it  limits  the  other.  The  infant's 
sensations  are  at  first  confused  one  with  another.  The 
first  distinctions  (next  to  that  of  the  pleasurable  and  pain- 
ful) are  those  of  degree  or  quantity.  Thus,  the  visual  im- 
pressions of  light  and  darkness,  of  a  bright  and  a  dark 
surface,  are  distinguished  before  those  of  colors.  As  the 
senses  are  exercised,  and  attention   brought  to   bear   on 


VARYING  SENSE-CAPACITY.  loi 

their  impressions,  discrimination  improves.  With  respect 
both  to  degree  and  to  quality  this  improvement  is  gradual, 
beginning  with  the  detection  of  broad  and  striking  con- 
trasts, and  proceeding  to  that  of  finer  differences.  Thus, 
the  contrast  of  loud  and  soft,  of  heavy  and  light,  is  arrived 
at  long  before  nice  differences  of  loudness  or  weight. 
Similarly,  the  contrast  of  the  reds  with  the  blues  is  arrived 
at  before  the  finer  differences  between  the  several  sorts  of 
red.*  In  this  way  the  senses  become  more  acute  with  ex- 
ercise. 

Differences  of  Sense-Capacity. — Striking  differ- 
ences of  sense-capacity  present  themselves  among  differ- 
ent individuals.  These  are  of  various  kinds.  Thus,  A 
may  be  superior  to  B  in  respect  of  what  is  called  absolute 
sensibility,  or  the  quickness  of  response  to  stimulus.  One 
child  is  much  more  readily  impressed  by  a  faint  smell  or 
sound  than  another.  The  tendency  to  respond  to  a  very 
weak  stimulus,  coupled  with  good  retentive  or  identifying 
power,  would  constitute  a  keen  sense  in  the  full  meaning 
of  the  word,  that  is,  one  which  readily  notes  and  identifies 
impressions. 

From  these  differences  we  must  carefully  separate  in- 
equalities in  discriminative  power.  This  is  the  important  in- 
tellectual side  of  sense-capacity.  It  is  found  to  character- 
ize the  more  educated  and  intellectual  classes.  It  does  not 
vary  with  absolute  sensibility.  A  may  be  more  quickly 
responsive  to  a  stimulus  than  B,  and  yet  not  be  more  dis- 
criminative. 

These  differences  of  discriminative  capacity  may  be  of 
a  more  general,  or  of  a  special  kind.     Thus,  A  may  sur- 

*  The  exact  order  in  which  the  colors  are  distinguished  is  not  cer- 
tain, and  probably  varies  somewhat  in  the  case  of  different  children. 
Prof.  Preyer  experimented  with  his  little  boy  at  the  age  of  two,  and 
found  that  he  learned  to  identify  colors  on  hearing  their  names  in  the 
following  order:  yellow,  red,  lilac,  green,  and  blue.  ("  Die  Seele  des 
Kindes,"  p.  6,  etc. ;  cf.  Perez,  "First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p. 
26,  etc.) 


102    THE  SENSES:   SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

pass  B  in  his  average  sense-discrimination.  Or  he  may 
surpass  the  other  in  some  special  mode  of  discriminative 
sensibility,  as  in  the  discrimination  of  colors  or  tones. 

These  inequalities  are  partly  native  and  connected 
with  differences  in  the  organs  engaged.  Good  average 
discriminative  power  probably  implies  from  the  first  a  fine 
organization  of  the  brain  as  a  whole  and  special  concen- 
trative  ability,  whereas  a  particularly  fine  sensibility  to 
color,  to  tone,  and  so  on,  is  connected  rather  with  original 
structural  excellence  of  the  particular  sense-organ  con- 
cerned. It  is  this  which  fixes  and  limits  the  ultimate  de- 
gree of  delicacy  reached.  A  child  naturally  dull  in  dis- 
tinguishing notes  or  colors  will  never  become  finely  dis- 
criminative in  this  particular  region.  At  the  same  time, 
the  remarkable  superiority  of  certain  individuals  (and 
race:)  over  others  in  respect  of  definite  varieties  of  dis- 
criminative sensibility  presupposes  special  concentration 
of  mind  and  prolonged  exercise  of  the  discriminative  func- 
tion in  this  particular  domain  of  impressions.  This  is 
strikingly  illustrated  in  the  exceptional  delicacy  attained 
by  those  who  have  occasion  to  employ  a  sense  much  more 
than  other  people.  In  this  way  we  account  for  the  fine 
tactile  sensibility  of  the  blind,  the  delicate  gustatory  sensi- 
bility of  wine-  or  tea-tasters,  and  so  on. 

The  Training  of  the  Senses.—By  the  training  or 
cultivation  of  the  senses  is  meant  the  systematic  exercis- 
ing of  the  sense-organs  (and  of  the  attention  in  connec- 
tion of  these)  so  as  to  make  them  efficient  instruments  of 
observation  and  discovery.  The  first  branch  of  this  train- 
ing is  the  developing  by  suitable  exercises  of  the  discrim- 
inative side  of  the  senses.  The  special  object  of  this 
branch  is  to  render  the  senses  quick  and  exact  in  seizing 
the  precise  shades  of  difference  among  the  several  impres- 
sions presented  to  them.  And  the  importance  of  this 
exercise  in  sense-discrimination  depends  on  the  fact  that, 
in   proportion  as  we   discriminate  our  sense-impressions 


MENTAL  ELEMENT  LN  SENSATLON. 


103 


finely,  shall  we  be  able  to  distinguish  and  know  objects 
accurately,  and,  as  a  result  of  this,  be  afterward  able  to 
call  up  distinct  images  of  them,  and  to  think  and  reason 
about  them.  Indeed,  distinct  and  sharply  defined  sense- 
impressions  are  the  first  condition  of  clear  imagination 
and  exact  thinking.  The  child  that  confuses  its  impres- 
sions of  color,  form,  etc.,  will  as  a  consequence  be  only 
able  to  imagine  and  think  in  a  hazy  and  confused  manner.^" 

The  exercise  of  the  senses  implies  the  direction  of 
attention  on  the  part  of  the  child  to  what  is  present.  It 
is  thus,  strictly  speaking,  the  exercises  of  the  mind  under 
the  stimulus  of  sense-impressions.  Sense-knowledge  is 
gained  by  the  young  mind  coming  into  contact  with  things 
immediately,  and  not  mediately  by  the  intervention  of 
another  mind.  Hence  the  function  of  the  educator  in 
this  first  stage  of  the  growth  of  knowledge  is  a  limited 
one.  A  good  part  of  the  exercise  of  the  senses  in  early 
life  goes  on,  and  it  is  fortunate  that  it  does  so,  with  very 
little  help  from  mother  or  nurse.  The  child's  own  ac- 
tivity, if  he  is  healthy  and  robust,  will  urge  him  to  use 
his  eyes,  his  hands,  and  other  organs  in  exploring  things 
about  him. 

Nevertheless,  a  good  deal  may  be  done  indirectly  to 
help  on  this  process  of  acquisition.  The  mother  has  the 
control  of  the  child's  surroundings,  and  may  do  much  to 
hasten  or  retard  the  development  of  sense-knowledge  by 
a  wise  attention  to  them  or  an  indolent  neglect  of  them. 
To  supply  children  from  the  first  with  suitable  materials 
for  the  exercise  of  their  sense-organs,  is  the  first  and 
probably  most  important  part  of  what  is  meant  by  train- 
ing the  senses,  at  least  in  very  early  life.  Next  to  this 
comes  the  more  direct  co-operation  of  mother,  nurse,  or 
teacher  in  directing  their  attention  to  unnoticed  sights 
and  sounds,  etc.,  in  their  surroundings. 

Method  of  Training.— The  training  of  the  senses 
begins  with  the  exercising  the  child  in  the  discrimination 


I04    THE  SENSES:   SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

and  along  with  this  in  the  identification  of  impressions. 
This  may  be  carried  out  in  a  less  systematic  way  in  the 
nursery.  The  infant's  surroundings,  the  toys  to  be 
handled,  the  pictures  to  be  looked  at,  and  even  the  tones 
of  voice  used  in  addressing  it,  should  be  chosen  with  a 
view  to  a  sufficient  variety  of  impression.  The  natural 
order  of  sense-development  must  be  followed,  the  first 
differences  brought  under  his  notice  being  broad  contrasts, 
as  that  of  a  hard  and  soft  material,  blue  and  yellow  colors, 
high  and  low  tones,  and  finer  distinctions  following.  With 
variety  should  go  a  certain  amount  of  repetition  of  im- 
pressions, so  that  the  pupil  be  exercised  in  identifying  im- 
pressions. Hence  the  surroundings  should  not  be  con- 
tinually changed.  A  measure  of  sameness  and  perma- 
nence is  necessary  to  thorough  familiarity  with  the  various 
sorts  of  sense-material. 

A  more  systematic  procedure  can  be  gradually  intro- 
duced, aiming  at  a  full  and  accurate  knowledge  of  the 
several  sense-elements.  Thus,  in  training  the  color-sense 
the  educator  may  best  proceed  by  selecting  first  of  all  a 
few  bright  and  striking  colors,  as  white,  red,  and  blue. 
Each  of  these  must  be  made  familiar  and  its  name  learned. 
After  being  presented  separately,  they  should  be  shown  in 
juxtaposition,  so  that  the  differences  may  be  clearly  seen. 
This  involves  a  rudimentary  exercise  of  the  faculty  of 
comparison  which  in  its  higher  form  plays  an  important 
part  in  thought.  Juxtaposition,  or  the  bringing  of  two 
things  side  by  side  in  space,  or,  as  in  the  case  of  sounds, 
in  immediate  succession  in  time,  is  the  most  valuable 
instrument  in  exercising  the  senses.  By  seeing  two  colors 
side  by  side,  the  individual  character  of  each  is  made 
more  apparent,  and  the  precise  amount  of  difference  ap- 
preciated. 

When  a  few  elements  have  thus  been  thoroughly 
learned,  new  ones  may  be  added.  In  this  way  the  child 
will  not  only  add  to  its  stock  of  sense-materials,  but  will 


DANGER  OF  OVER-EXERTION. 


[05 


have  its  former  impressions  rendered  still  more  definite 
by  a  grasp  of  more  numerous  and  finer  differences.  Thus, 
by  adding  yellow,  orange,  and  so  on,  the  learner  will  at- 
tain to  more  distinct  ideas  of  what  is  meant  by  red. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  these  finer  exercises  in 
sense-discrimination  imply  a  severe  effort  of  attention,  and 
are  apt  to  be  felt  as  a  strain  at  first,  both  to  the  sense-organ 
concerned,  and  to  the  brain.  And  it  is  of  the  highest  im- 
portance not  to  push  them  to  the  point  of  fatigue.  Thus 
in  training  the  eye  to  a  minute  detection  of  differences  of 
form  in  letters,  etc.,  and  the  hand  to  the  nice  reproduc- 
tion of  these  differences,  there  is  special  danger  of  over- 
stimulating  the  organ  and  inducing  fatigue,  and,  if  per- 
sisted in,  of  causing  injury  to  the  organ. 

If,  however,  the  risk  of  over-exertion  be  avoided,  it  is 
possible,  by  proceeding  judiciously,  not  only  to  keep  these 
exercises  from  becoming  wearisome,  but  even  to  make 
them  positively  agreeable.  The  main  source  of  a  pleas- 
urable interest  here  is  the  child's  love  of  activity,  mental 
and  bodily.  The  very  employment  of  the  sense-organs  is 
a  pleasure  to  the  healthy  and  strong  child.  This  pleasure 
will  be  the  greater  when  muscular  activity  is  also  enlisted, 
and  an  appeal  made  to  the  little  one's  nascent  feeling  of 
power.  Thus,  in  training  the  color-sense,  after  presenting 
unlike  and  like  colors  to  the  child's  fiotice,  he  may  be  en- 
couraged to  select  and  sort  the  colors  for  himself.  The 
active  exercises  of  painting,  drawing,  and  singing,  in  order 
to  reproduce  impressions  of  sight  and  sound,  are  the  best 
means  of  training  the  corresponding  senses. 

Training  of  the  Several  Senses.— All  the  senses 
need  exercise,  but  in  different  ways.  The  lower  senses, 
being  of  but  little  value  as  knowledge-giving  senses,  claim 
less  consideration  from  the  intellectual  educator.  The 
cultivation  and  control  of  the  palate  have,  however,  an  im- 
portant bearing  on  physical  education,  on  the  disciplining 
of  the  body  to  healthy  habits  ;  and  the  due  limitation  of 


lo6    THE  SENSES:   SEXSE-DISCRIMINATION. 

the  pleasures  of  taste,  the  checking  of  that  common  child- 
ish vice,  Nascherei,  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  among  the 
early  exercises  in  the  virtue  of  temperance.  Again,  the 
cultivation  of  the  sense  of  smell,  of  sensibility  to  the 
odors  of  flower  and  herb,  pasture  and  wood,  summer  and 
autumn,  is  an  important  ingredient  in  the  formation  of 
aesthetic  taste,  and  more  especially  the  development  of 
that  love  of  nature  which  is  a  prime  factor  in  all  real  en- 
joyment of  poetry. 

From  its  great  importance,  touch  claims  special  con- 
sideration in  the  education  of  the  senses.  The  develop- 
ment of  this  sense  is  secured,  to  a  large  extent,  by  the 
child's  own  spontaneous  promptings  to  handle  and  ex- 
amine things.  Still,  the  teacher  may  supplement  this 
irregular  self-instruction  by  special  systematic  exercises. 
The  Kindergarten  occupations,  such  as  stick-laying,  paper- 
folding,  modeling  in  clay,  etc.,  all  serve  to  increase  the 
discriminative  sensibility  of  the  organ  of  touch  on  its  pas- 
sive and  on  its  active  side.  The  teaching  of  the  rudi- 
ments of  drawing  and  writing  completes  this  branch  of 
sense-training.  The  perfect  command  of  the  hand  in  ex- 
ecuting movements  with  a  nice  precision  is  the  outcome 
of  a  fine  muscular  sensibility  developed  by  special  con- 
centration of  the  attention,  and  by  practice.^^ 

The  training  of  the  ear  is  a  well-acknowledged  depart- 
ment of  elementary  education.  In  learning  to  articulate 
and  to  read,  the  child  is  called  on  first  of  all  to  distinguish 
a  number  of  elementary  sounds  as  well  as  to  discriminate 
combinations  of  these.  Along  with  this  the  muscular 
sense  is  exercised  in  so  managing  the  organ  of  speech  as 
to  reproduce  the  precise  sound  required.  Much  the  same 
holds  good  with  respect  to  the  systematic  exercise  of  the 
ear  in  singing.  Here,  too,  sounds  have  to  be  distin- 
guished and  identified.  The  first  condition  of  singing 
accurately  is  to  have  a  finely  discriminative  ear  which  will 
instantly  detect  the  slightest  degree  of  flatness  or  sharp- 


TRAINING  OF   THE  SEVERAL   SENSES.     107 

ness  in  the  notes  sung.  And  in  conjunction  with  this,  the 
vocal  organ  must  be  exercised  so  that  the  modifications 
answering  to  differences  of  pitch  and  force  may  be  clearly- 
distinguished  and  retained  for  future  use. 

The  eye  calls  for  the  most  careful  and  prolonged  train- 
ing, on  account  both  of  its  intellectual  and  its  aesthetic  im- 
portance. A  systematic  training  of  the  color-sense,  some- 
what after  the  plan  roughly  sketched  above,  is  a  desidera- 
tum both  as  an  element  of  taste  and  as  a  matter  of  prac- 
tical utility.  And  a  careful  discipline  of  the  sense  of  form 
on  its  passive  and  active  side  is  included  in  the  recognized 
school  exercises  of  reading,  drawing,  writing,  etc.  In  truth, 
in  this  early  stage  of  education  the  cultivation  of  the  eyes 
goes  on  in  close  association  with  that  of  the  hand.  The 
whole  fruit  of  this  companionship  will  appear  by-and-by. 
The  separate  exercise  of  the  eye  in  the  discrimination  of 
form-elements  is  illustrated  in  learning  to  read  printed  let- 
ters as  well  as  in  the  study  of  geometry. 

Nowhere,  perhaps,  is  the  limit  of  the  teacher's  power 
more  plainly  seen  than  in  the  education  of  the  senses. 
Since  discriminative  power  depends  on  concentration  of 
mind  and  practice,  the  child's  ability  to  discriminate  col- 
ors, tones,  elements  of  form,  etc.,  may  be  improved  by  ju- 
dicious learning.  Still,  in  every  case  a  limit  is  sure  to  be 
reached  in  time,  beyond  which  no  further  distinctions  are 
possible.  This  limit,  set  by  the  structural  perfection  of 
the  organ  concerned,  is  a  different  one  for  different  chil- 
dren. A  child  born  note-deaf,  for  example,  can  never  be 
drilled  into  a  fine  discriminator  of  tones.  Hence  the  need 
of  varying  these  exercises  according  to  the  capacity  of  the 
pupil  and  the  results  obtainable  from  the  exercise. 

APPENDIX. 

A  useful  account  of  the  senses,  from  a  physiological  point  of  view, 
is  contained  in  Prof.  Bernstein's  "PMve  Senses  of  Man."  ^^* 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  senses:  observation  of   things. 

Definition  of  Perception. — Sense-impressions  are 
the  alphabet  by  which  we  spell  out  the  objects  presented 
to  lis.  In  order  to  grasp  or  apprehend  these  objects,  these 
letters  must  be  put  together  after  the  manner  of  words. 
Thus,  the  apprehension  of  an  apple  by  the  eye  involves  the 
putting  together  of  various  sensations  of  sight,  touch,  and 
taste.  This  is  the  mind's  own  work,  and  is  known  as  per- 
ception. And  the  result  of  this  activity,  i.  e.,  the  distinct 
apprehension  of  some  object,  is  called  a  percept. 

We  see  from  this  that  perception  is  an  act  of  the  mind. 
In  the  reception  of  the  sense-impression,  the  mind  is  pas- 
sive, dependent  on  the  action  of  an  external  force  ;  but 
in  construing  this  as  the  sign  of  some  external  object,  it  is 
essentially  active.  Perception  is  mental  activity  employed 
about  sense-impressions  with  a  view  to  knowledge.  The 
first  stage  of  this  activity  was  discussed  in  the  last  chapter, 
under  the  head  of  sense-discrinmiation.  This  corresponds 
to  the  learning  of  the  several  letters.  We  have  now  to 
consider  the  second  stage,  that  corresponding  to  the  learn- 
ing of  words  and  their  meanings.  We  have  to  explain 
how  a  child  comes  to  regard  its  sense-impressions  as  signs 
of  the  presence  of  certain  external  objects,  as,  for  exam- 
ple, certain  sensations  of  sound  as  indications  of  a  bell 
ringing,  a  dog  barking,  etc. 

How  Percepts  are  reached. — The  seemingly  simple 


HOW  PERCEPTS  ARE  REACHED. 


109 


act  of  referring  a  sense-impression  to  an  external  object  is 
the  result  of  a  process  of  learning  or  acquisition.  As  lit- 
tle as  a  child  at  first  knows  the  meaning  of  a  word  till 
experience  has  taught  him,  so  little  is  he  able  to  construe 
his  sense-impressions  as  the  signs  of  objects.  In  the  first 
weeks  of  life  a  child  can  not  recognize  the  external  source 
of  the  sounds  that  strike  on  his  ear.  He  has  not  learned 
to  connect  the  sound  of  the  mother's  voice  with  the  mother 
he  sees  ;  nor  has  he  even  learned  to  recognize  the  direc- 
tion of  a  sound,  as  is  clearly  shown  by  the  blank,  wonder- 
ing look  of  his  face,  and  the  absence  of  a  proper  move- 
ment of  the  head  and  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  sound. 

The  apprehension  of  an  object,  say  a  bell,  by  the  ear, 
involves  two  mental  processes :  The  first  is  the  discrimi- 
nation and  identification  of  the  impression.  In  order  to 
know  that  a  particular  impression  of  sound  is  that  of  a 
bell,  it  must  be  identified  as  this  impression  and  not  anoth- 
er, say  that  of  a  voice.  This  constitutes  the  first  step  in 
the  process  of  perception.  It  may  be  marked  off  as  the 
presentative  or  pf-ehensive  element.  It  presupposes  pre- 
vious experience  of  the  impressions.  Thus  the  child  can 
not  identify  a  particular  sound  as  that  of  a  bell  till  after  a 
number  of  repetitions  of  this  impression. 

In  the  second  place,  the  apprehension  of  the  bell  im- 
plies that  this  particular  impression  has  been  interpreted 
as  coming  from  a  particular  object,  viz.,  the  bell.  And  this 
means  that  on  hearing  this  sound  the  child  recalls  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  bell  to  sight  and  its  tactile  qualities,  hard- 
ness, weight,  etc.  That  is  to  say,  the  one  actual  sensation 
of  the  moment,  that  of  the  sound,  has  recalled  and  rein- 
stated a  whole  group  of  impressions  answering  to  the  several 
features  or  qualities  which  constitute  the  object.  This  sec- 
ond step  may  be  called  the  interpretative  or  apprehensive  part 
of  the  process.  And  since  the  impressions  recalled  are 
not  directly  presented  but  only  represented,  this  step  is 
further  known  as   the  representative   one.     This   act   of 


no   THE  SENSES:   OBSERVATION  OF    THINGS. 

construing  or  interpreting  the  impression  presupposes  that 
in  the  child's  past  experience  the  impression  of  sound  has 
become  connected  with  other  impressions. 

We  see  from  this  that  the  interpretation  of  sense-im- 
pressions presupposes  previous  processes  of  a  complex 
kind,  viz.,  discriminating  a  number  of  sensations  of  differ- 
ent senses,  and  grouping  or  organizing  these  into  a  coher- 
ent whole.  There  are  thus  two  stages  in  the  development 
of  percepts:  (i)  the  initial  stage  of  examining  things,  by- 
way of  the  different  senses  and  learning  to  know  them ; 
and  (2)  the  final  stage  of  knowing  again  or  recognizing  a 
thing.       \ 

Special  Channels  of  Perception. — The  sensation 
of  each  sense  tends  to  recall  the  other  sensations  of  the 
group  to  which  they  belong,  and  so  are  capable  of  being 
interpreted  by  an  act  of  perception.  Thus,  a  child  refers 
sensations  of  smell  to  objects,  as  when  he  says,  "  I  smell 
apples,"  just  as  he  refers  sensations  of  light  and  color  to 
objects,  as  when  he  says,  "  I  see  a  candle."  Nevertheless, 
when  we  talk  of  perceiving  we  generally  refer  to  knowl- 
edge gained  at  the  time  through  one  of  the  higher  senses, 
and  more  particularly  sight.  To  perceive  a  thing  means, 
in  every-day  parlance,  to  see  it.  Where  sight  is  wanting, 
touch  assumes  the  function  of  the  leading  perceptual 
sense  ;  and  even  in  the  case  of  those  who  see,  touch  is  an 
important  medium  of  apprehending  objects.  Sight  and 
touch  are  thus  in  a  special  manner  channels  of  perception. 

The  reason  why  the  senses  of  touch  and  sight  are  thus 
distinguished  has  been  hinted  at  in  the  previous  chapter. 
We  there  saw  that  they  were  marked  off  from  the  other 
senses  by  having  local  discrimination  and  an  accompani- 
ment of  muscular  sensation.  Owing  to  these  circumstances, 
these  two  senses  supply  us  with  a  wider  and  more  varied 
knowledge  of  objects  than  the  other  senses.  In  smelling 
a  flower,  or  hearing  the  noise  of  a  passing  vehicle,  I  can 
only  seize  one  aspect  or  quality  of  a  thing  ;  in  looking  at 


PERCEPTIONS  OF   TOUCH.  \\\ 

it  I  instantly  take  in  a  number  of  aspects,  as  its  color, 
shape,  and  size. 

The  additional  knowledge,  gained  by  means  of  local 
discrimination  and  movement,  is,  moreover,  of  a  most  im- 
portant kind.  This  includes  first  the  knowledge  of  the 
position  of  things,  and  along  with  this  a  knowledge  of 
their  ''geometrical"  or  space  properties,  viz.,  figure  and 
magnitude.  And,  secondly,  it  includes  a  knowledge  of 
their  "  mechanical "  or  force  properties,  viz.,  resistance 
under  its  several  forms  of  hardness,  weight,  etc.,  as  made 
known  by  active  touch.  And  these  properties  are  the 
most  essential,  forming  the  kernel,  so  to  speak,  of  what  we 
mean  by  a  material  object. 

Touch  and  sight  do  not  stand  on  precisely  the  same 
level  as  channels  of  perception.  For,  first  of  all,  as  we 
shall  see  presently,  the  knowledge  of  geometric  properties 
is  fuller  and  more  direct  in  the  case  of  touch  than  in  that 
of  sight.  And,  secondly,  with  respect  to  the  important 
mechanical  properties,  hardness,  weight,  etc.,  our  knowl- 
edge is  altogether  derived  from  touch.  Hence,  tactile 
apprehension  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  primary  and  most 
fundamental  form  of  perception. 

Perceptions  of  Touch.— These  may  be  roughly  di- 
vided into  ( i)  perceptions  of  space  and  extension,  and  more 
especially  the  position,  form,  and  magnitude  of  objects; 
and  (2)  perceptions  of  things  as  concrete  wholes,  such  as 
a  pebble,  an  orange,  etc. 

The  first  kind  of  perception  may  be  illustrated  by  the 
way  in  which  a  child  learns  the  shape  and  size  of  a  cube, 
say  a  small  wooden  brick.  Here  the  sensibility  of  the  skin 
to  pressure,  its  local  discrimination,  and,  lastly,  the  mus- 
cular sense,  all  combine  in  the  development  of  the  percept. 
The  form  of  one  of  the  surfaces  is  ascertained  in  different 
ways  :  (i)  by  moving  the  fingers  over  it  in  various  direc- 
tions and  noting  how  long  the  contact  with  the  body  lasts  ; 
(2)  by  passing  the  fingers  about  the  boundary  of  the  sur- 


112   THE  SENSES:   OBSERVATION  OF   THINGS. 

face  and  noting  the  uniformity  of  the  direction  of  the 
movement  along  each  edge,  the  length  of  the  movement, 
and  the  change  of  direction  at  the  angles  ;  and  (3)  by  plac- 
ing the  extended  hand  over  the  surface  and  noting,  by 
means  of  the  local  discrimination  of  the  skin,  where  the 
edges  touch  the  hand.  The  knowledge  of  any  one  of  its 
surfaces  would  thus  involve  the  grouping  of  many  sense- 
elements  together,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  whole  cubical 
form  would  further  involve  the  grouping  of  a  number  of 
these  groups  together  and  the  completion  of  this  aggregate 
of  experiences  by  taking  the  brick  into  the  two  hands,  and 
so  gaining  a  clearer  idea  of  its  solidity. 

After  repeating  this  complex  act  of  tactile  inspection 
again  and  again,  the  different  members  of  the  group  would 
cohere  so  closely  that  the  recurrence  of  a  part  would  suf- 
fice to  reinstate  the  whole.  Thus  the  child,  on  merely 
taking  the  brick  into  his  hands,  would  recall  the  successive 
experiences  of  movement  just  described.  That,  in  this 
way,  a  child  is  able  to  gain  very  clear  perceptions  of  form, 
is  seen  in  the  fact  that  the  blind  are  capable  of  picturing 
and  reasoning  about  geometrical  forms  with  great  clear- 
ness. And  even  in  the  case  of  children  who  have  the  use 
of  their  eyes,  the  earliest  impressions  of  form  are  gained 
from  tangible  bodies,  and  to  a  large  extent  by  the  medium 
of  active  touch. 

In  apprehending  the  presence  of  a  whole  concrete 
thing,  as  a  pebble,  this  group  of  impressions  would  be 
taken  up  into  a  still  larger  aggregate.  Thus,  in  learning 
what  a  pebble  is,  a  child  connects  what  he  has  observed 
respecting  its  form  with  the  hardness,  coldness,  smooth- 
ness, and  weight.  His  knowledge  of  the  pebble  is  the  re- 
sult of  all  this  various  sense-experience  organized  or  united 
into  a  seemingly  simple  mental  product.  Where,  as  in  the 
case  of  an  apple  or  an  orange,  the  other  senses  supply  im- 
portant elements  (color,  taste,  and  smell),  the  group  of 
tactile  impressions  is  ample  for  a  subsequent  identification 


PERCEPTION  OF  FORM  BY   THE  EYE.      113 

of  the  object.  The  child,  on  touching  an  orange,  instantly 
apprehends  the  thing  as  a  whole,  that  is,  recognizes  it  as 
an  orange. 

Visual  Perception. — As  remarked  above,  sight  is  in 
normal  circumstances  the  leading  avenue  of  perception. 
This  supremacy  is  due  in  part  to  the  fact  that  in  looking 
we  can  apprehend  things  at  a  distance  as  well  as  near,  and 
also  a  number  of  objects  at  the  same  time,  as  the  pictures 
on  the  wall,  the  buildings  of  a  street,  etc.  To  this  must 
be  added  the  fact  that  when  we  see  things  we  can  tell  how 
they  would  appear  to  touch.  In  other  words,  we  translate 
visual  impressions  into  terms  of  the  earlier  and  more  ele- 
mentary experiences  of  active  touch.  Seeing  is  thus  to  a 
large  extent  a  representative  process  and  an  interpretative 
act  of  the  mind. 

Perception  of  Form  by  the  Eye.— In  the  perception 
of  form  the  eye  is  up  to  a  certain  point  independent  of  the 
hand.  Thus,  in  learning  the  direction  and  length  of  lines, 
and  the  form  and  magnitude  of  objects  as  they  might  be 
drawn  on  a  blackboard,  the  organ  of  sight  is  developing 
its  own  mode  of  perception.  This  visual  perception,  it  is 
plain,  resembles  the  tactile  perception  in  so  far  as  it  arises 
out  of  a  number  of  experiences,  passive  and  active.  Thus, 
in  finding  out,  by  looking  at  the  gable  of  a  house,  what  a 
triangle  is,  the  child  combines  the  experience  gained  in 
moving  the  eye  about  the  contour,  with  the  composite  im- 
pression obtained  by  the  local  discrimination  of  the  several 
parts  by  the  retina.  The  precise  direction  and  length  of 
each  line  presuppose  these  movements  of  the  eye  along 
the  outline  of  the  object.  It  is  only  when  these  have  been 
executed  many  times  that  the  perception  of  form  by  the 
eye  at  rest  becomes  distinct.  And  this  means  that  in  look- 
ing at  a  figure  the  impression  of  the  retina  suffices  to  recall 
the  experience  of  the  moving  eye. 

The  perception  of  any  form,  such  as  a  cross,  an  ellipse, 
or  the  letter  M,  is  the  outcome  of  a  process  of  combining 


114  ^^^  SENSES:   OBSERVATION  OF   THINGS. 

a  number  of  form-elements  or  details  and  clearly  appre- 
hending their  relations  one  to  another.  Thus,  in  appre- 
hending the  form  of  the  cross  the  learner  must  distinguish 
the  vertical  and  horizontal  arm,  observing  their  directions 
as  well  as  their  relative  lengths.  The  more  exactly  each 
element  is  discriminated,  and  the  more  clearly  the  rela- 
tions of  position,  proportion,  and  number  are  seized,  the 
more  perfect  the  final  percept. 

This  perception  of  form  as  plane  form,  or  form  as  it 
can  be  represented  on  a  flat  surface,  as  a  blackboard,  is, 
however,  fragmentary  and  abstract.  The  forms  of  real 
objects  from  which  a  child  first  gains  his  knowledge  are 
those  of  solid  bodies  having  the  third  dimension,  thick- 
ness or  depth  as  well  as  length  and  breadth.  We  see  one 
part  of  the  surface  of  a  sphere  nearer  the  eye  or  advanc- 
ing, another  part  farther  off  or  receding.  This  discrimi- 
nation of  a  solid  form  as  distinguished  from  a  flat  drawing 
involves  the  perception  of  distance. 

Perception  of  Distance  and  Solidity.— The  modern 
"Theory  of  Vision,"  of  which  Bishop  Berkeley  was  the 
author,  tells  us  that  the  perception  of  distance,  though 
apparently  as  direct  as  that  of  color,  is  really  indirect  and 
acquired.  In  seeing  an  object  at  a  certain  distance,  we 
are  really  interpreting  visual  impressions  by  a  reference  to 
movement  of  the  limbs  and  to  touch.  We  can  only  real- 
ize the  distance  of  an  object  by  traversing,  either  with  the 
arm  or  with  the  whole  body,  the  space  that  intervenes  be- 
tween us  and  it. 

According  to  this  doctrine,  children  do  not  at  first  see 
things  as  we  see  them,  one  nearer  than  another.  This  is 
proved  by  the  experience  of  blind  children  on  first  obtain- 
ing the  use  of  their  eyes.  All  objects  appear  to  such  as 
touching  the  eyes.  And  they  can  not  distinguish  between 
a  flat  drawing  and  a  solid  body.  It  is  only  after  using 
their  eyes  for  some  time  that  they  learn  to  distinguish  near 
and  far.     The  development  of  the  perception  of  distance 


PERCEPTION  OF  DISTANCE  AND  SOLIDITY.   115 

takes  place  by  the  use  of  sight  and  touch  together.  A 
child  finds  out  how  far  a  thing  is  from  himself  by  moving  his 
limbs.  Thus,  an  infant  sitting  up  at  a  table  finds  out  the 
distance  of  something  on  the  table  by  stretching  out  its 
hands  and  noting  how  far  it  has  to  reach  before  it  touches 
the  thing.  When  it  is  able  to  run  about,  the  movements  of 
its  legs  become  another  measure  of  distance.  In  carrying 
out  these  movements  the  eyes  are  also  employed.  The 
child  notes  the  difference  to  the  eye  when  the  object  is 
near  and  when  it  is  farther  away.  Thus,  he  observes 
that  he  has  to  make  his  eyes  turn  inward  or  converge  more 
in  the  former  case,  and  that  the  object  looks  more  distinct. 
After  many  repetitions  he  learns  to  connect  these  experi- 
ences of  active  touch  and  these  changing  effects  on  the 
eye.  When  this  process  of  grouping  or  organizing  experi- 
ences is  complete,  the  recurrence  of  the  proper  visual  ex- 
perience at  once  suggests  the  corresponding  experience  of 
movement  and  touch.  Thus  the  sensation  of  muscular 
strain  in  looking  at  a  near  object  instantly  tells  him  that 
the  object  is  near  and  within  his  reach.  The  visual  sen- 
sation has  become  a  sign  of  a  fact  known  by  the  use  of 
his  limbs.  Seeing  distance  is  thus  a  kind  of  reading,  and 
the  meaning  of  the  impression  on  the  eye,  like  that  of  the 
letters  in  a  book,  has  to  be  learned  from  experience.* 

The  perception  of  solid  bodies  illustrates  the  same 
thing.  Here,  too,  the  child  has  to  interpret  his  visual  im- 
pressions by  the  aid  of  past  experience  and  the  knowledge 
gained  by  active  touch.  That  the  eye  has  little  knowledge 
of  solidity  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  even  an  adult  may  easi- 
ly be  deceived  in  taking  flat  drawings  for  solid  objects 
(e.  g.,  in  the  scenery  of  a  theatre).  The  only  way  in  which 
we  can  distinctly  realize  that  an  object  has  thickness  is  by 
taking  it  into  the  two  hands. 

*  The  perception  of  the  reat  magnitude  of  an  object,  as  distin- 
guished from  the  apparent  magnitude  which  varies  with  the  distance,  is 
closely  connected  with  that  of  distance. 
9 


Il6  THE  SENSES:  OBSERVATION  OF   THINGS. 

The  apprehension  of  soHdity  by  the  eye  is  effected  by 
means  of  certain  signs.  Thus,  we  can  move  the  eye  from 
a  near  to  a  more  distant  part  of  an  object,  and  note  the 
difference  in  muscular  sensations  of  the  eyes.  Even  when 
we  do  not  move  the  eye,  we  have  something  to  guide  us  in 
the  dissimilarity  of  the  two  retinal  impressions.  In  look- 
ing at  a  flat  picture  each  eye  receives  a  precisely  similar 
impression  ;  but  in  looking  at  a  solid  body  their  impres- 
sions differ.  Thus,  in  looking  at  a  book  held  a  little  in 
front  of  the  face  with  its  back  toward  us,  our  left  eye  sees 
more  of  the  left  cover,  while  the  right  eye  sees  more  of  the 
right.  It  is  by  noting  this  dissimilarity,  and  connecting  it 
with  the  fact  of  solidity  as  known  by  active  touch,  that  a 
child  learns  to  recognize  a  solid  object  with  the  eyes.* 

Intuition  of  Things. — In  looking  at  an  object,  as 
in  touching  it,  we  apprehend  simultaneously  a  group  of 
qualities.  These  include  first  of  all  purely  visual  features, 
as  its  degree  of  brightness,  the  distribution  of  light  and 
shade  on  its  surface,  its  color  (or  distribution  of  colors), 
and  the  form  and  (apparent)  magnitude  of  its  surface. 
Along  with  these  come  the  closely  organized  combinations 
of  sight  and  touch,  viz.,  the  solid  shape,  and  the  nature  of 
the  surface  as  rough  or  smooth. f  This  may  be  called  the 
fundamental  part  of  our  intuition  of  a  particular  object. 
In  looking  at  a  new  object,  as  a  crystal  or  a  botanical 
specimen,  we  instantly  intuit  or  take  in  this  group  of 
qualities,  and  they  constitute  a  considerable  amount  of 
knowledge  about  the  object  as  a  whole.  In  order  to  know 
the  thing  as  a  whole,  so  as  afterward  to  be  able  to  recog- 
nize it  with  the  eye,  this  aggregate  must  be  conjoined  with 
other  qualities  known  by  touch  and  by  the  other  senses. 

*  The  fact  that  the  perception  of  solidity  depends  mainly  on  the 
presence  of  two  unlike  visual  impressions  is  proved  by  the  stereoscope, 
the  two  drawings  of  which,  taken  from  different  points  of  view,  answer 
to  the  two  retinal  images  of  a  solid  body. 

f  This  is  made  known  to  sight  by  differences  of  light  and  shade. 


PERCEPTION  OF  OUR  OWN  BODY 


117 


Thus,  in  recognizing  an  orange  a  child  invests  it  more  or 
less  distinctly  with  a  particular  degree  of  hardness,  weight, 
and  temperature,  as  well  as  with  a  certain  taste  and  smell. 

The  recognition  of  a  thing  as  identical  with  something 
previously  perceived  is  a  complex  psychical  process.  It 
involves  not  only  the  identification  of  a  definite  group  of 
impressions,  but  also  the  germ  of  a  higher  intellectual 
process,  namely,  the  comparison  of  successive  impressions, 
and  the  detection  of  similarity  amid  diversity  or  change. 
Thus,  a  child  learns  to  identify  a  particular  object,  as  his 
mother,  or  his  dog,  at  different  distances  and  in  different 
lights,  and — a  matter  of  still  greater  difficulty — according 
to  the  particular  position  and  visible  aspect  of  the  object, 
as  seen  from  the  front  or  from  the  side,  etc.  Children 
require  a  certain  amount  of  experience  and  practice  before 
they  recognize  identity  amid  such  varying  aspects.  And 
in  this  they  are  greatly  aided  by  hearing  others  call  the 
thing  by  the  same  name. 

Perception  of  our  own  Body. — In  close  connection 
with  the  perception  of  external  objects  the  child  comes 
to  know  the  several  parts  of  his  own  body.  The  sensa- 
tions which  are  not  referred  to  external  bodies  are  local- 
ized by  us  in  some  part  of  our  organism.  Thus,  organic 
sensations,  as  skin-sensations  of  "  creeping,"  muscular 
sensations  of  cramp  or  fatigue,  are  localized  in  some  defi- 
nite region  of  the  body,  the  arm,  or  the  foot.  And  the 
deep-seated  feelings  of  comfort  and  discomfort  connected 
with  the  organs  of  digestion,  etc.,  are  also  localized  in  a 
less  definite  and  vague  manner.  Such  references  are  not 
possible  at  the  beginning  of  life.  A  child  has  to  learn 
where  his  bodily  sensations  are  located  ;  and  this  he  does 
by  learning  to  know  the  several  parts  of  his  body. 

The  child's  own  body,  like  an  external  object,  is  known 
by  means  of  the  impressions  it  supplies  to  his  senses,  and 
more  particularly  touch  and  sight.  An  infant  examines 
its  legs,  arms,  etc.,  with  its  hands.     By  frequent  excur- 


Il8  THE  SENSES:  OBSERVATION  OF   THINGS. 

sions  of  these  over  the  surface  of  the  body,  the  position, 
shape,  and  size  of  the  several  parts  become  known.  The 
eyes,  too,  are  engaged  in  these  early  observations,  so  that 
a  visual  picture  is  gradually  put  together  and  combined 
with  the  tactile  perception.  As  this  knowledge  of  the 
bodily  form  is  developed  the  several  bodily  sensations 
become  better  localized.  Thus,  in  inspecting  his  feet  with 
his  hands  the  child  is  producing  sensations  of  pressure  in 
the  former.  In  this  way  the  sensations  having  their  origin 
in  that  particular  region  of  the  bodily  surface  come  to  be 
definitely  connected  with  that  part  as  known  to  touch  and 
sight.  After  this,  whenever  the  child  receives  a  sensation 
by  way  of  the  nerves  running  to  that  part,  he  knows  at 
once  that  it  is  his  foot  that  is  giving  him  the  sensation. 

To  a  child  his  bodily  organism  is  marked  off  from  all 
other  objects  by  the  fact  that  it  is  connected  in  a  peculiar 
way  with  his  conscious  life,  and  more  particularly  his  feel- 
ings of  pleasure  and  pain.  The  experience  of  pressing 
his  foot  with  his  hand  differs  from  that  of  pressing  a  for- 
eign body,  inasmuch  as  there  is  not  only  a  sensation  in 
the  hand,  but  an  additional  one  in  the  foot.  Injuries  to 
the  several  parts  of  the  bodily  surface,  and  the  applica- 
tion of  agreeable  stimuli,  as  soft  touches,  come  to  be  rec- 
ognized as  causes  of  painful  and  pleasurable  sensation. 
In  these  ways  he  comes  to  regard  his  body  as  that  by 
which  he  suffers  pain  and  pleasure.  At  the  same  time 
he  learns  that  the  movements  of  his  body  are  immediately 
under  the  control  of  his  wishes,  that  his  limbs  are  the 
instruments  by  which  he  reacts  on  his  environment,  alter- 
ing the  position  of  objects,  etc.  Hence  his  body  is  re- 
garded as  a  part  of  himself,  and  in  early  life  probably 
makes  up  the  chief  part  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  *'  self." 
It  is  contrasted  with  all  other  and  foreign  objects,  and  in 
a  special  way  with  the  other  human  organisms  he  sees 
around  him. 

Observation. — All  perception  requires  some  degree 


DISTINCT  AND  ACCURATE  OBSERVATION.  1 19 

of  attention  to  what  is  present.  But  we  are  often  able  to 
discriminate  and  recognize  an  object  by  a  momentary- 
glance,  which  suffices  to  take  in  a  few  prominent  marks. 
Similarly,  we  are  able  by  a  cursory  glance  to  recognize  a 
movement  or  action  of  an  object.  Such  incomplete  fugi- 
tive perception  is  ample  for  rough,  every-day  purposes. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  sometimes  need  to  throw  a  special 
degree  of  mental  activity  into  perception,  so  as  to  note 
completely  and  accurately  what  is  present.  This  is  par- 
ticularly the  case  with  new  and  unfamiliar  objects.  Such 
a  careful  direction  of  the  mind  to  objects  is  commonly 
spoken  of  as  observation.  To  observe  is  to  look  at  a 
thing  closely,  to  take  careful  note  of  its  several  parts  or 
details.  In  its  higher  form,  known  as  scientific  observa- 
tion^ it  implies  too  a  deliberate  selection  of  an  object  or 
action  for  special  consideration,  a  close  concentration  of 
the  attention  on  it,  and  an  orderly  going  to  work  with  a 
view  to  obtain  the  most  exact  account  of  a  phenomenon. 
Hence  we  may  call  observation  regulated  perception. 

Distinct  and  Accurate  Observation. — Good  ob- 
servation must  be  precise  and  free  from  taint  of  error. 
Many  persons'  observations  are  vague  and  wanting  in  full- 
ness of  detail  and  precision.  The  habit  of  close  and  ac- 
curate observation  of  things,  their  features  and  their  move- 
ments, etc.,  is  one  of  the  rarest  of  possessions.  It  presup- 
poses a  strong  interest  in  what  is  going  on  around  us. 
This  is  illustrated  in  the  fact  that  a  child  always  observes 
closely  and  accurately  when  he  is  very  deeply  concerned, 
as,  for  example,  in  scrutinizing  his  mother's  expression 
when  he  is  not  quite  sure  whether  she  is  talking  seriously 
to  him  or  not. 

Good  observation  presupposes  two  things:  (i)  the  ac- 
curate noting  of  what  is  directly  presented  to  the  eye,  or 
the  perfect  performance  of  the  prehensive  part  of  the  pro- 
cess, and  (2)  a  just  interpretation  of  the  visual  impression, 
or  the  perfect  performance  of  the  second  or  apprehensive 


120    THE  SENSES:   OBSERVATION  OF   THINGS. 

part  of  the  operation.  Defects  in  the  first  are  very  com- 
mon. Children  fail  to  note  the  exact  form  and  size  of 
objects,  their  situation  relatively  to  other  objects,  etc.  To 
see  a  number  of  objects  in  their  real  order,  so  as  to  be 
able  to  describe  them  accurately,  is  a  matter  of  close, 
painstaking  observation. 

Any  defect  in  the  prehensive  part  of  the  process  natu- 
rally leads  on  to  faulty  interpretation.  Hasty  and  slovenly 
observation  of  color,  form,  or  magnitude  leads  the  young 
to  false  ideas  of  the  objects  they  see,  as  when  a  child  mis- 
takes a  lemon  for  an  orange,  two  boys  romping  for  two 
boys  fighting.  And  even  if  the  visual  element  is  carefully 
noted,  there  will  be  an  error  of  interpretation  when  the 
impression  of  the  eye  has  not  been  firmly  connected  with 
the  tactile  and  other  experiences  to  which  it  is  related  as 
parts  of  one  whole  experience.  Thus,  if  a  child  after  see- 
ing some  simple  experiments  with  metals  fails  to  properly 
connect  the  several  properties  of  malleability,  fusibility, 
with  the  lead,  iron,  etc.,  the  sight  of  a  piece  of  one  of  the 
metals  will  be  apt  to  reinstate  the  wrong  properties.  We 
thus  see  that  accurate  knowing  or  recognition  depends  on 
a  careful  learning  or  coming  to  know. 

Defective  and  inaccurate  observation  is  hindered  by 
mental  preoccupation.  Dreamy  and  absent-minded  chil- 
dren are,  as  a  rule,  bad  observers.  They  only  see-things 
indistinctly  as  in  a  haze.  Anything,  too,  in  the  shape  of 
excitement  and  emotional  agitation  is  inimical  to  careful 
observation,  because  it  is  apt  to  excite  vivid  expectations 
of  what  is  going  on,  and  so  to  lead  to  delusive  perception. 
Thus,  if  a  child  strongly  desires  to  go  out,  it  is  disposed 
to  think  that  the  rain  has  ceased  when  it  is  really  still  fall- 
ing. Emotional  children  are  very  apt  to  read  what  they 
wish  and  vividly  imagine  into  the  objects  before  them. 

We  see,  then,  that  while  perception  has  its  representa- 
tive element,  that  while  the  child  who  distinguishes  his 
visual  impressions  accurately  but  is  unable  to  interpret 


ACQUIREMENT  OF  DISCRIMINATION.      12 1 

them  never  attains  to  anything  but  useless  scraps  of  knowl- 
edge, this  representative  factor  has  to  be  kept  within  due 
limits,  and  not  allowed  to  hide  from  view  what  is  actually 
before  the  eyes. 

The  highest  kind  of  observation  combines  accuracy 
with  quickness.  In  many  departments  of  observation,  as 
watching  people's  expressions  and  actions,  or  the  scientific 
observation  of  a  rapid  process  of  physical  movement  or 
change,  such  as  an  astronomical  and  chemical  investiga- 
tion, rapidity  is  of  the  first  consequence. 

Development  of  Perceptual  Power. — Our  analysis 
of  perception  has  suggested  the  way  in  which  our  percepts 
are  gradually  built  up  and  perfected.  In  the  first  weeks 
of  life  there  is  little  if  any  recognition  of  outer  things. 
The  child  receives  visual  impressions,  but  these  are  not 
yet  referred  to  external  objects.  It  is  by  the  daily  re- 
newed conjunctions  of  simple  sense-experiences,  and  more 
particularly  those  of  sight  and  of  touch,  that  the  little 
learner  comes  to  refer  its  impressions  to  objects.  By  con- 
tinually looking  at  the  objects  handled,  the  visual  percep- 
tion of  direction  becomes  perfected,  as  also  that  of  dis- 
tance within  certain  limits.  The  child  learns  to  put  out 
his  hand  in  the  exact  direction  of  an  object,  and  to  move 
it  just  far  enough.*  The  perception  of  the  distance  and 
solidity  of  more  remote  objects  remains  very  imperfect 
before  locomotion  is  attained.  The  change  of  visible 
scene  as  the  child  is  carried  about  the  room  impresses 

*  A  child  known  to  the  present  writer  was  first  seen  to  stretch  out 
his  hand  to  an  object  when  two  and  a  half  months  old.  The  hand 
misses  the  exact  point  at  first,  passing  beside  it,  but  practice  gives  pre- 
cision to  the  movement.  The  same  child  at  six  months  knew  when  an 
object  was  within  reach.  If  a  biscuit  or  other  object  was  held  out  of 
his  reach,  he  made  no  movement,  but  as  soon  as  it  was  brought  within 
his  reach  he  instantly  put  out  his  hand  to  take  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
Prof.  Preyer  says  his  boy  tried  to  seize  the  lamp  in  the  ceiling  of  a 
railway  compartment  when  fifty-eight  weeks  old.  ("  Die  Seele  des 
Kindes,"  p.  38.) 


122   THE  SENSES:   OBSERVATION  OF   THINGS. 

him,  no  doubt,  but  the  meaning  of  these  changes  only  be- 
comes fully  seized  when  he  begins  to  walk,  and  to  find 
out  the  amount  of  locomotive  exertion  answering  to  the 
different  appearances  of  things.  It  is  some  years,  how- 
ever, before  he  begins  to  note  the  signs  of  distance  in  the 
case  of  remote  objects.  The  same  order  shows  itself  with 
respect  to  the- development  of  the  perception  of  solidity. 
Thus  a  child  learns  in  time  to  distinguish  between  the  flat 
shadows  of  .things  on  the  walls  and  the  pictures  in  his 
books,  and  real  solid  objects.  But  it  is  long  before  he 
learns  that  the  distant  hills  and  clouds  are  bulging,  sub- 
stantial forms.* 

After  many  conjunctions  of  impressions  children  begin 
to  find  out  the  nature  of  objects  as  wholes,  and  the  visible 
aspects  which  are  their  most  important  marks.  That  is 
to  say,  they  begin  to  discriminate  objects  one  from  an- 
other by  means  of  sight  alone,  and  to  recognize  them  as 
they  reappear  to  the  eye.  Development  follows  here  as 
elsewhere  the  line  of  interest.  It  is  the  objects  of  great- 
est interest,  such  as  the  bottle  by  which  the  infant  is  fed, 
that  are  first  apprehended  as  real  objects.  After  some 
months  of  tactile  investigation  the  interpretation  of  visual 
impressions  becomes  more  easy  and  automatic.  Sight  now 
grows  self-sufficient.  What  may  be  roughly  marked  off 
as  the  touching  age  gives  place  to  the  seeing  age.  Hence- 
forth the  growth  of  perception  is  to  a  large  extent  an  im- 
provement of  visual  capability. 

At  first  this  power  of  discerning  the  forms  of  objects 
with  the  eye  is  very  limited.  A  child  will  note  one  or  two 
prominent  and  striking  features  of  a  thing  but  overlook 
the  others.     Thus,  in  looking  at  real  animals  or  at  his  toy 

*  M.  Perez  ("First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  pp.  226,  227)  re- 
marks that  a  child  of  six  months  will  take  a  flat  disk  with  gradations 
of  light  and  shade  for  a  globe.  He  also  remarks  that  children  of  fif- 
teen months  and  more  arc  liable  to  make  absurd  blunders  as  to  the 
distance  of  remote  objects,  hills,  the  UodzQP^  etc. 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  PERCEPTUAL  POWER.  123 

or  picture  imitations,  he  will  distinguish  a  quadruped  from 
a  bird,  but  not  one  quadruped  from  another.  Similarly, 
he  will  distinguish  a  very  big  dog  from  a  small  one,  but 
not  one  dog  from  another  of  similar  size. 

The  progress  of  perception  grows  with  increase  of 
visual  discrimination ;  that  is  to  say,  of  the  capability  of 
distinguishing  one  color,  one  direction  of  a  line,  and  so 
on,  from  another.  It  presupposes,  further,  the  growth  of 
the  power  of  attention  which  is  the  main  ingredient  in  ob- 
servation. As  experience  advances,  children  find  it  easier 
to  note  the  characteristic  aspects  of  things  and  to  recog- 
nize them ;  and  they  take  more  pleasure  in  detecting  their 
differences  and  similarities.  In  this  way  their  observations 
tend  gradually  to  improve  in  distinctness  and  accuracy. 
Not  only  so,  an  increased  power  of  attention  enables  them 
to  seize  and  embrace  in  a  single  view  a  number  of  details. 
In  this  way  their  first  vague,  "  sketchy  "  percepts  get  filled 
out.  Thus,  a  particular  flower  or  animal  is  seen  more 
completely  in  all  its  details  of  color  and  its  relations  of 
form.  At  the  same  time  they  acquire  the  power  of  appre- 
hending larger  and  more  complex  objects,  such  as  whole 
buildings,  ships,  etc. ;  and,  further,  assemblages  of  many 
objects,  as  the  furniture  in  a  room,  or  the  plants  in  a  gar- 
den, in  their  proper  relative  positions. 

The  observing  powers  may  develop  in  different  direc- 
tions, according  to  special  capabilities  and  special  circum- 
stances. The  possession  of  a  particular  mode  of  discrimi- 
native sensibility  in  a  high  form,  and  a  strong  correlated 
interest  in  the  particular  class  of  impressions,  will  lead  to 
a  special  consideration  of  things  on  that  side.  Thus  the 
child  with  a  fine  eye  for  color  will  be  specially  observant 
of  the  color-side  of  objects.  Again,  the  faculty  of  obser- 
vation may  grow  in  rapidity  of  action,  and  in  grasp  of  a 
multitude  of  objects,  according  to  the  individual's  special 
powers  of  attention.  Once  more,  the  development  of  a 
particular  interest  in  a  class  of  objects,  as  animals,  flowers. 


124  ^-^^  SENSES:   OBSERVATION  OF   THINGS. 

faces,  etc.,  will  determine  a  special  acuteness  of  observa- 
tion in  respect  of  these.  Thus  a  boy  with  a  marked  love 
of  horses  becomes  specially  observant  of  their  forms,  ac- 
tions, etc.  So  a  boy  with  a  strong  leaning  to  mimicry  and 
a  keen,  humorous  interest  in  the  expression  of  people's 
faces,  etc.,  will  be  particularly  observant  in  this  direction. 
It  may  be  added  that  particular  enlargements  of  tactile 
and  other  experience  will  serve  to  give  a  particular  depth 
and  richness  of  suggestion  to  the  individual's  percepts. 
Thus  a  person  who  acquires  special  knowledge  of  the  tan- 
gible properties  of  natural  substances,  woven  fabrics,  etc., 
will  see  more  in  these  objects  than  another  person. 

Training  of  the  Observing  Powers.— This  branch 
of  intellectual  training  goes  on  in  close  connection  with, 
and  is  at  the  same  time  the  completion  of,  that  training 
of  the  senses  on  their  discriminative  side  which  was  con- 
sidered in  the  last  chapter.  The  first  years  of  life  are 
marked  out  by  nature  as  the  age  for  exercising  the  observ- 
ing powers.  The  objects  that  surround  the  child  are  new 
and  excite  a  vivid  interest.  He  spontaneously  spends 
much  of  his  time  in  manipulating  and  scrutinizing  things. 
The  overflowing  muscular  activity  of  a  healthy  child  is 
highly  favorable  to  experimental  investigation. 

The  beginnings  of  the  education  of  the  observing 
powers  belong  to  the  nursery,  and  consist  in  supplying  the 
child  with  ample  room  to  move  about  and  a  good  stock 
of  objects  of  interest  for  manual  and  visual  inspection. 
Nothing  is  more  fatal  to  this  early  development  than 
checking  muscular  activity,  forbidding  children  to  touch 
and  examine  things.*  By  a  free  exertion  of  activity  the 
child  will  learn  for  himself  to  organize  his  tactile  and 
visual  experiences  so  as  to  become  proficient  in  interpret- 

*  As  Miss  Edgeworth  observes,  the  best  toys  for  th2  infant  are 
things  that  can  be  grasped  without  danger,  as  ivory  sticks,  balls,  etc., 
by  help  of  which  differences  of  size  and  form  may  be  learned.  ("  Prac- 
tical Education,"  i,  pp.  7,  8.) 


EXERCISE  IN  OBSERVING  FORM.  125 

ing  the  visual  signs  of  distance,  solidity,  etc.  The  addi- 
tion of  flat  representations  of  solid  objects  in  picture- 
books  is  a  valuable  supplement  to  this  first  domestic  en- 
vironment, since  they  help  to  fix  the  child's  attention  in  a 
new  way  on  the  purely  visible  side  of  things,  the  differ- 
ence and  at  the  same  time  the  similarity  between  the  real 
solid  thing  and  its  pictorial  representation.  A  more  act- 
ive direction  of  the  observing  faculty  is  required  when 
the  child  grows  and  is  capable  of  better  fixing  his  attention 
on  objects.  This  is  the  moment  for  calling  his  attention 
to  less  obtrusive  objects  at  a  distance,  and  so  carrying 
forward  the  process  of  self-education  to  a  more  advanced 
point.^^ 

Exercise  in  observing  Form.  —  The  transition 
from  the  nursery  to  the  school  should  be  marked  by  a 
more  systematic  training  of  the  observing  powers.  This 
properly  begins  with  exercising  the  child  in  the  more  ac- 
curate perception  of  form.  The  Kindergarten  system  has 
this  as  its  chief  aim.  The  principles  which  govern  this 
early  department  of  training  are  as  follows  :  (i)  The  per- 
ception of  form  is  grounded  on  the  child's  active  experi- 
ences and  the  use  of  the  hand.  It  is  by  the  spontaneous 
outgoings  of  his  muscular  energy  in  examining  objects  and 
constructing  them  that  all  perception  of  real  form  arises. 
(2)  The  development  of  the  perception  of  form  should 
proceed  from  a  conjoint  tactile  and  visual,  to  an  inde- 
pendent visual  perception.  (3)  The  observation  of  form 
should  be  exercised  conformably  to  the  general  laws  of 
mental  development,  viz  ,  passing  from  the  rude  and  in- 
definite to  the  exact  and  definite,  from  the  concrete  to  the 
abstract,  and  from  the  simple  to  the  complex.  The  Kin- 
dergarten gifts  and  occupations  clearly  satisfy  these  con- 
ditions in  general.  Froebel  was  psychologically  right  in 
utilizing  the  child's  spontaneous  activity,  in  setting  out 
with  tangible  objects,  as  the  ball,  etc.,  and  in  attaching  so 
much  importance  to  the  exercise  of  the  child's  construct- 


126  THE  SENSES:   OBSERVATION  OF   THINGS. 

ive  activity  in  the  reproduction  of  form  by  the  occupa- 
tions of  modeling,  stick-laying,  paper-folding,  etc.  All 
such  exercises  involve  a  recreation  of  form  by  actions  of 
the  hand  similar  to  those  by  which  the  infant  spontaneous- 
ly investigates  the  form  of  things.  Hence  they  are  to  be 
regarded  as  the  natural  completion  of  the  earlier  training 
of  the  nursery. 

Such  exercises  do  not,  however,  constitute  all  that  is 
meant  by  training  the  child  in  the  perception  of  form. 
From  an  early  period  he  is  interesting  himself  in  the 
forms  of  natural  objects,  as  animals,  trees,  flowers,  etc., 
as  well  as  buildings,  articles  of  furniture,  etc.  And  he 
should  be  exercised  in  a  more  close  and  exact  observation 
of  these  forms.  The  child  naturally  observes  at  first  only 
the  more  salient  features  of  an  object,  such  as  the  tallness 
of  the  poplar,  the  long  neck  of  the  swan,  which  may  after- 
ward serve  as  a  rough  mark  for  identifying  the  object. 
How  little  he  really  notes  may  be  seen  by  his  first  rude 
attempts  at  drawing  the  human  figure,  the  horse,  etc.  The 
development  of  the  perception  of  form  proceeds  analyti- 
cally, the  rough  outline  being  first  apprehended,  and  then 
the  several  details.  The  educator  should  follow  this  order, 
and  practice  the  observer  in  attention  to  the  minuter  de- 
tails of  form.  In  this  way  the  child  will  grow  more  dis- 
criminative in  his  perceptions  of  form  and  learn  more 
about  the  minute  parts  of  common  and  familiar  objects. 

Here,  again,  the  hand  should  be  called  in,  in  order  to 
reproduce  what  is  seen.  The  child's  spontaneous  impulse 
to  imitate  nature  by  drawing  is  one  of  the  most  valuable 
ones  to  the  educator.  Compared  with  modeling,  drawing 
is  to  a  certain  extent  abstract,  since  it  separates  the  visible 
form  from  the  tangible.  Accordingly  it  is  best  taken  up 
after  modeling,  building,  etc.  At  the  same  time  the  child 
commonly  manifests  the  impulse  to  draw  at  an  early  age, 
and  the  satisfaction  of  the  impulse  provides  an  excellent 
means  of  gaining  a  closer  acquaintance  with  visible  form. 


CONCRETE  OBJECTS.  1 27 

Not  only  so,  by  employing  the  hand  in  the  production  or 
creation  of  form  by  definite  manual  movements,  drawing 
supplies  a  valuable  additional  means  of  training  the  eye 
and  the  hand  in  unison,  and  so  of  perfecting  the  connec- 
tions between  touch  and  sight.  A  child  who  has  become 
skillful  in  drawing  has  not  only  acquired  a  useful  manual 
art,  but  has  helped  to  develop  his  power  of  seeing^  i.  e.,  of 
deciphering  the  symbols  that  present  themselves  to  his 
eye.  In  these  exercises  the  teacher  should  be  satisfied 
at  first  with  rough  and  approximate  imitations  of  natural 
forms,  and  aim  at  making  these  more  close  and  accurate 
by  practice.* 

A  more  advanced  stage  in  the  visual  perception  of  form 
is  reached  when  the  learner  takes  up  the  abstract  consid- 
eration of  form  by  a  study  of  the  elements  of  geometry. 
A  knowledge  of  lines,  curves,  angles,  etc.,  should  distinct- 
ly follow  a  certain  amount  of  exercise  in  the  observa- 
tion and  reproduction  of  concrete  forms.  To  distinguish 
a  straight  line  or  a  right  angle  is  a  dry  and  uninter- 
esting exercise  compared  with  noting  the  form  of  some 
real  object,  and  involves  a  certain  development  of  the 
power  of  abstraction.  Such  exercises  should  be  com- 
menced by  references  to  concrete  forms,  as  the  window- 
frame,  the  edge  of  the  house,  its  gable,  etc.  In  this  way 
the  child  will  gain  an  interest  in  the  subject,  and  at  the 
same  time  further  develop  his  perceptions  of  concrete  forms 
by  a  clearer  recognition  of  their  constituent  parts. 

The  Object-Lesson. — After  the  exercise  of  the 
child  in  the  perception  of  form  comes  the  training  of  the 
senses  as  a  whole  in  the  knowledge  of  objects  and  their 
constituent  qualities.  The  systematic  development  of 
this  side  of  the  training  of  the  senses  gives  us  the  object- 
lesson.  By  this  is  meant  the  presentment  to  the  pupil's 
senses  of  some  natural  substance,  as  coal,  chalk,  or  lead  ; 

■*  On  the  best  way  to  exercise  the  child  in  drawing,  see  Mr.  Speii- 
cer's  "Education,"  chap,  ii,  p.  79,  and  following. 


128  THE  SENSES :   OBSERVATION  OF   THINGS. 

some  organic  structure,  as  a  plant  or  animal ;  or,  finally, 
some  product  of  human  industry,  as  glass  or  a  piece  of 
furniture ;  and  such  a  detailed  and  orderly  unfolding  of 
its  several  qualities,  its  capabilities  of  being  acted  on  by, 
and  of  acting  on,  other  things,  its  relations  of  depend- 
ence on  surroundings,  etc.,  as  will  result  in  the  fullest 
and  clearest  knowledge  of  the  object  as  a  whole  and  its 
conditions.  It  is  evident,  from  this  general  description, 
that  the  object-lesson  makes  a  special  appeal  to  the  sev- 
eral senses,  and,  while  thus  exercising  the  senses  separate- 
ly, helps  to  train  the  learner  in  the  connecting  and  organ- 
izing of  a  number  of  impressions.  Thus,  in  an  object- 
lesson  on  one  of  the  metals  there  is  an  appeal  made  to  the 
sense  of  touch  (sensations  of  hardness,  smoothness,  etc.), 
and  in  one  on  salt,  an  appeal  to  the  sense  of  taste.  The 
object-lesson  thus  falls  into  two  parts  :  (i)  the  detailed 
exposition  and  naming  of  the  various  qualities,  and  (2) 
the  summing  up  of  the  results  in  a  description  of  the 
whole  thing.  The  object-lesson  is  a  training  in  close  ob- 
servation of  objects  ;  and,  since  the  first  stage  of  science 
is  observation,  including  experiment,  this  form  of  instruc- 
tion constitutes  a  fit  introduction  to  the  study  of  physical 
science.  Its  value  depends,  first  of  all,  on  the  extent  to 
which  the  observing  powers  of  the  class  have  been  made 
use  of.  The  teacher  must  not  tell  the  pupils  what  the 
object  is,  but  stimulate  them  to  obser/e  for  themselves. 
Again,  it  depends  on  the  clearness  and  precision  with 
which  the  several  properties  have  been  unfolded,  so  that  a 
complete  and  accurate  idea  of  the  whole  may  be  attained. 
Once  more,  it  involves  the  proper  use  of  juxtaposition,  so 
as  to  exercise  the  observer's  power  of  comparison  and  dis- 
crimination. And,  lastly,  it  implies  that  the  result  of  each 
separate  observation  has  been  carefully  recorded  by  a 
suitable  name.  The  object-lesson,  properly  carried  out, 
is  one  of  the  best  methods  of  developing  in  children  a 
habit  of  observation  and  a  taste  for  scientific  experiment. 


PURPOSE  OF   THE  OBTECT-LESSON. 


129 


The  object-lesson  aims  at  nothing  beyond  the  training 
of  the  observing  powers  themselves.  Its  purpose  is  real- 
ized when  the  object  has  been  accurately  inspected  and 
its  properties  learned.  Hence  it  must  be  marked  off  from 
all  appeals  to  the  senses  which  subserve  the  better  imagi- 
nation and  understanding  of  a  subject  dealt  with  mainly 
by  verbal  instruction,  such  as  the  use  of  models  and  maps 
in  teaching  geography  ;  coins,  pictures,  etc.,  in  teaching 
history ;  and  such  an  apparatus  as  Mr.  Sonnenschein's  in 
teaching  the  elements  of  number.  All  these  exercises 
call  in  the  aid  of  the  senses  according  to  the  general  prin- 
ciple of  modern  education,  that  knowledge  begins  with  the 
apprehension  of  concrete  things  by  the  senses  of  the  child. 

While  the  calling  in  of  the  pupil's  observing  powers  is 
thus  a  characteristic  of  the  right  method  in  all  branches 
of  teaching,  there  are  some  subjects  which  exercise  the 
faculty  of  observation  in  a  more  special  manner.  Thus, 
the  study  of  geometry  and  of  languages  help,  each  in  its 
own  special  and  restricted  way,  to  exercise  the  visual  ob- 
servation of  form.  But  the  study  which  most  completely 
and  most  rigorously  exercises  the  faculty  of  observation  is 
natural  science.  A  serious  pursuit  of  chemistry,  mineral- 
ogy, botany,  or  some  branch  of  zoology,  as  entomology, 
trains  the  whole  visual  capacity,  and  helps  to  fix  a  habit 
of  observing  natural  objects,  which  is  one  of  the  most  val- 
uable rewards  that  any  system  of  education  can  bestow. 

It  is  not  to  be  forgotten,  however,  that  the  best  train- 
ing of  the  observing  powers  lies  outside  the  range  of 
school  exercises.  A  habit  of  close  observation  of  nature 
is  best  acquired  in  friendly  association  with,  and  under  the 
guidance  of,  an  observant  parent  or  tutor,  in  hours  of 
leisure.  A  daily  walk  with  a  good  observer  will  do  more 
to  develop  the  faculty  than  the  most  elaborate  school 
exercises.  The  training  of  the  observing  powers  is  indeed 
that  part  of  intellectual  education  that  most  requires  the 
aid  of  other  educators  than  the  schoolmaster.     And  one 


130     THE  SENSES:   OBSERVATION  OE   THINGS. 

evil  resulting  from  our  modern  aggregation  into  big  towns, 
and  our  growing  school  demands  on  the  time  and  ener- 
gies of  children,  is  that  so  little  opportunity  and  energy- 
remain  for  those  spontaneous  beginnings  in  the  observa- 
tion of  nature,  the  forms  of  hill  and  dale,  the  movements 
of  stream,  waves,  etc.,  the  forms  and  movements  of  plants 
and  animals,  which  are  the  best  exercise  of  the  observing 
faculty  ;  and  for  those  simpler  and  more  attractive  kinds 
of  scientific  observation,  e.  g.,  collecting  birds*  eggs,  fossils, 
etc.,  which  grow  naturally  out  of  children's  play-activity. 

APPENDIX. 

The  development  of  visual  perception  is  clearly  described  by  M. 
Taine,  "  On  Intelligence,"  part  ii,  book  ii,  chap,  ii,  sect,  iv-vi.  The 
child's  first  perceptions  of  direction,  distance,  etc.,  are  recorded  by 
Prof.  Preyer,  op.  cit. 

On  the  training  of  the  observing  powers,  the  reader  will  do  well  to 
consult  Mr.  Spencer's  "  Essay  on  Education,"  chap,  ii,  and  Miss  You- 
mans's  little  work  on  the  "  Culture  of  the  Observing  Powers  of  Children." 
The  function  of  the  nursery  in  drawing  out  the  observing  faculty  is 
well  illustrated  by  Miss  Edgeworth,  "Practical  Education,"  chap,  i, 
"  Toys."  The  difficult  subject  of  the  object-lesson  is  dealt  with  in  a 
suggestive  way  by  Dr.  Bain,  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap,  viii,  p. 
247,  etc.  ;  and  by  Mr.  Calkins,  "  New  Primary  Objecl-Lessons  "  (Har- 
per &  Brothers),  p.  359,  etc.  The  defects  of  natural  observation  and 
the  educational  improvement  of  the  faculty  are  ably  treated  by  Mr. 
Thring,  "  Theory  and  Practice  of  Teaching,"  part  i ;  see  especially 
chap.  vii.  The  German  reader  may  with  advantage  read  Waitz, 
"Allgemeine  Pcedagogik,"  part  ii,  section  i,  "Die  Bildung  der  An- 
schauung." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

MENTAL    REPRODUCTION. — MEMORY. 

Retention  and  Reproduction. — The  senses  are  the 
source  of  all  our  knowledge  about  external  things.  But, 
if  we  were  only  capable  of  observing  objects,  we  could 
gain  no  lasting  knowledge  about  anything.  Knowledge 
of  things  is  not  a  momentary  attainment,  vanishing  again 
with  the  departure  of  the  things  ;  it  is  our  enduring  pos- 
session, which  we  can  make  use  of  at  any  time,  whether 
the  objects  are  before  us  or  not. 

This  persistence  of  the  impressions  which  objects 
make  on  our  minds  through  the  senses  is  due  to  that  im- 
portant property  of  the  mind  called  retentiveness.  This 
property,  as  was  pointed  out  in  an  earlier  chapter,  is  con- 
nected with  the  physiological  fact  that  the  brain  centers 
are  permanently  modified  by  their  various  modes  of  activi- 
ty. Thus  the  activity  of  the  visual  centers  involved  in 
seeing  and  observing  a  flower  or  a  person's  face  leaves  as 
its  after-result  a  lasting  trace  of  this  activity,  by  the  help 
of  which  we  can  afterward  recall  the  impression  of  the 
object  and  think  about  it.  This  independent  activity  of 
the  brain  is  seen  in  a  striking  form  in  the  case  of  one  who, 
like  Milton,  has  lost  his  sight,  yet  can  distinctly  recall  the 
objects  he  has  seen  in  the  past. 

Retentiveness  shows  itself  in  the  ability  to  reproduce 
the  impression  when  occasion  presents  itself.  Thus  the 
mind  retains  the  impression  of  a  person's  face,  of  a  tune, 


132       MENTAL   REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY, 

and  so  forth,  when  it  can  afterward  revive  or  recall  this. 
We  know  nothing  about  retention  except  through  the  fact 
of  mental  revival  or  mental  reproduction.  It  is  true  that 
the  mind  can  not  always  recall  what  it  has  retained.  A 
child  is  sometimes  tenacious  in  retention,  and  at  the  same 
time  slow  and  awkward  in  recalling  what  he  knows.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  is  evident  that  what  we  can  not  repro- 
duce at  any  time  is  not  retained.  The  teacher  necessarily 
judges  what  a  child  has  retained  of  a  lesson  by  the  amount 
he  can  reproduce  under  favorable  conditions.     \ 

Reproduction  and  Representation. —  Whenever 
the  mind  thus  recalls  what  is  no  longer  present  to  the 
senses  the  process  is  called  representation,  i.  e.,  the  act  in 
which  the  mind  ?r-presents  to  itself  what  was  before  pre- 
sented. Thus,  in  recalling  our  absent  home  or  friend,  we 
see  with  the  mind's  eye  the  object  we  actually  saw  when 
it  was  present.  This  process  is  also  called  reproductive 
imagination,  because  in  thus  mentally  realizing  an  object 
in  its  absence,  we  are  really  exercising  a  form  of  imagina- 
tion. The  result  of  the  operation  is  known  as  a  mental 
image.  The  image  is  the  copy  of  the  percept.  We  pict- 
ure the  house  as  it  actually  presented  itself  to  our  eyes, 
with  its  proper  shape,  color,  etc.  Only,  as  a  rule,  our 
images  are  much  less  complete  and  distinct  than  our  per- 
cepts. In  recalling  a  friend's  face,  we  do  not  ordinarily 
represent  all  its  features  as  they  would  actually  appear 
when  the  person  was  before  our  eyes. 

As  was  pointed  out  in  the  last  chapter,  there  is  an 
element  of  representation  in  perception.  In  seeing  a 
globe,  for  example,  we  are  reproducing  tactile  experiences. 
Further,  in  recognizing  a  familiar  object,  as  our  house  or 
a  friend's  figure,  we  are  plainly  recalling  past  percepts  of 
this  object.  This,  however,  is  a  lower  form  of  reproduc- 
tion than  that  which  takes  place  when  the  object  is  no 
longer  present ;  for  in  this  case  there  is  no  presentative 
element,  and   the  representation   is  more  complete  and 


CONDITIONS  OF  REPRODUCTION. 


"^Zl 


independent.  It  is  this  independent  activity  of  the  mind 
that  we  specially  think  of  when  we  talk  of  representing  or 
picturing  objects. 

While  we  naturally  think  first  of  mental  pictures,  i.  e., 
copies  of  visual  percepts,  when  we  talk  of  images,  we  must 
be  careful  to  include  under  the  term  copies  of  percepts 
and  sense-impressions  generally.  Thus  we  must  say  that 
the  mind  imagines  or  forms  images  of  sounds,  as  words, 
etc.,  as  well  as  tactile  percepts,  odors,  and  tastes.  The 
most  important  images  are  copies  of  visual  and  auditory 
percepts. 

This  mental  region  of  pure  representation  roughly 
answers  to  what  we  commonly  call  memory.  To  remem- 
ber a  thing  is  to  retain  an  impression  of  it,  so  as  to  be 
able  to  represent  or  picture  it.  Everything  that  we  learn 
has  thus  to  be  taken  possession  of  by  the  mind.  The 
knowledge  that  the  child  gains,  whether  by  the  direct 
examination  of  objects  or  by  way  of  words,  is  acquired 
for  the  express  purpose  of  retaining  and  recalling.  Even 
the  higher  and  more  abstract  kind  of  knowledge  has  to 
be  stored  up  in  the  mind  for  subsequent  reproduction. 
Hence  the  laws  of  reproduction  are  of  special  interest  to 
the  educator.  He  has  to  do  with  the  process  of  learning, 
or  acquisition,  of  which  reproduction  is  the  chief  ingredi- 
ent. To  understand  how  to  control  and  direct  these  pro- 
cesses, with  a  view  to  the  maximum  result  in  the  shape  of 
clear  and  abiding  knowledge,  is  one  of  the  chief  objects 
of  a  study  of  mental  science. 

Conditions  of  Reproduction.— The  most  general 
condition  of  reproduction  is  a  certain  degree  of  recency 
of  the  original  impression.  We  readily  recall  any  object 
or  incident  of  the  immediate  past,  such  as  the  appearance 
and  voice  of  the  person  we  have  just  been  speaking  with. 
Older  impressions  are,  as  a  rule,  less  easily  recalled.  The 
longer  the  interval  between  the  presentation  and  the 
representation,  the  less  distinct  and  prompt  will  be  the 


134       MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.- MEMORY. 

latter.  The  lines  the  child  can  repeat  a  few  minutes  after 
going  over  them  will  tend  to  disappear  after  an  hour  or  a 
day  or  two.  It  is  thus  apparent  that  the  after-impressions 
left  by  what  we  see,  hear,  etc.,  tend  to  grow  less  and  less 
vivid  and  distinct  as  time  elapses.  The  scenes,  person- 
ages, and  experiences  of  our  remote  past  are  for  the 
greater  part  lost  to  us. 

Coming  now  to  more  special  conditions,  we  may  say 
that  the  capability  of  representing  an  object  or  event  some 
time  after  it  has  been  perceived  depends  on  two  chief 
circumstances.  In  the  first  place,  the  impression  must 
be  stamped  on  the  mind  with  a  certain  degree  of  force. 
This  circumstance  may  be  called  the  depth  of  the  impres- 
sion. In  the  second  place,  there  is  needed  in  ordinary 
cases  the  presence  of  something  to  remind  us  of  the  ob- 
ject or  to  suggest  it  to  our  minds.  This  second  circum- 
stance is  known  as  the  force  of  association. 

(A)  Depth  of  Impression  :  Attention  and  Re- 
tention.— In  the  first  place  then  (assuming  that  there  has 
been  only  one  impression)  we  may  say  that  a  distinct 
image  presupposes  a  certain  degree  of  perfection  in  the 
impression.  A  bright  object  distinctly  seen  is  recalled 
better  than  a  dull  one  obscurely  seen.  The  chalk  diagram 
on  the  blackboard  stands  a  better  chance  of  being  recalled 
than  a  less  forcible  impression.  For  this  reason  actual 
impressions  are  in  general  much  better  recalled  than  prod- 
ucts of  imagination.  A  child  will  generally  recall  the 
appearance  of  a  place  he  has  actually  seen  better  than 
one  that  he  has  heard  described.  The  habit  of  repeating 
words  audibly  when  we  want  to  remember  them  is  based 
on  this  principle. 

Again,  the  permanence  of  an  impression  is  determined 
not  merely  by  its  external  character,  but  by  the  attitude 
of  the  mind  in  relation  to  it.  If  our  minds  are  preoccu- 
pied, even  a  powerful  impression  may  fail  to  produce  a 
lasting  effect.    Hence  we  have  to  add  that  the  permanence 


REPETITION  AND   RETENTION.  135 

of  an  impression  depends  on  the  degree  of  interest  excited 
by  the  object,  and  the  corresponding  vigor  of  the  act  of 
attention.  All  strong  feeling  gives  a  special  persistence 
to  impressions,  by  arousing  an  exceptional  degree  of  in- 
terest. Where  a  boy  is  deeply  affected  by  pleasurable 
feeling,  as  in  listening  to  an  attractive  story  or  in  watch- 
ing a  cricket  match,  he  remembers  distinctly.  Such  in- 
tensity of  feeling,  by  securing  a  strong  interest  and  a  close 
attention,  insures  a  vivid  impression  and  a  clear  discrim- 
ination of  the  object,  both  in  its  several  parts  or  details, 
and  as  a  whole.  And  the  fineness  of  the  discriminative 
process  is  one  of  the  most  important  determining  condi- 
tions of  retention. 

The  interest  determining  the  force  of  attention  may, 
as  we  have  seen,  arise  directly  out  of  some  aspect  of  the 
object,  as  its  novelty,  beauty,  its  suggestiveness,  and  so 
on.  A  pleasurable  feeling,  flowing  from  the  perception 
itself,  is  the  best  guarantee  of  close  attention  and  fine  dis- 
crimination. The  events  of  our  past  life  which  are  per- 
manently retained  commonly  show  an  accompaniment  of 
strong  feeling  (wonder,  delight,  awe,  and  so  forth). ^^ 
Where  this  powerful  intrinsic  interest  is  wanting,  a  vigor- 
ous effort  of  voluntary  attention  may  do  something  to 
bring  about  a  permanent  retention. 

Finally,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  our  minds  are  not  al- 
ways in  an  equally  favorable  state  for  the  retention  of 
impressions.  Much  will  depend  on  the  degree  of  mental 
vigor  and  brain  vigor  at  the  time.  A  fresh  condition  of 
the  brain,  such  as  is  realized  after  a  period  of  repose,  is 
necessary  to  a  deep  and  lasting  after-trace  of  retention  of 
impressions.*. 

Repetition  and  Retention. — We  have  just  assumed 
that  the  object  or  event  recalled  has  been  perceived  but 

*  Prof.  Bain  considers  that  acquisition  or  storing  up  new  impres- 
sions is  of  all  forms  of  intellectual  activity  that  which  involves  the 
largest  consumption  of  brain-force. 


136      MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

once  only.  But  a  single  occurrence  of  an  impression 
rarely  suffices  for  a  lasting  retention.  Since  every  impres- 
sion tends  to  lose  its  effect  after  a  time,  our  images  re- 
quire to  be  re-invigorated  by  new  presentations  of  the  ob- 
ject. Most  of  the  events  of  life  are  forgotten  just  because 
they  never  recur  in  precisely  the  same  form.  The  bulk 
of  our  mental  imagery,  the  natural  scenery,  buildings,  per- 
sons, etc.,  that  form  our  surroundings,  answer  to  objects 
which  we  see  again  and  again.  Here,  then,  we  have  a  sec- 
ond circumstance  determining  the  depth  of  an  impression. 
The  greater  the  number  of  the  repetitions,  the  more  endur- 
ing will  be  the  image.  Where  the  repetition  of  the  actual 
impression  is  impossible,  the  repeated  reproduction  of  it 
serves  less  effectually  to  bring  about  the  same  result. 
By  repeating  to  ourselves  internally  a  person's  name  again 
and  again  soon  after  hearing  it,  we  help  to  fix  it  in  the 
memory. 

The  repetitions  must  not  only  be  numerous  but  fre- 
quent. In  learning  a  new  language  we  may  look  up  in  a 
dictionary  an  uncommon  or  rarely  occurring  word  a  good 
number  of  times  and  yet  never  gain  a  firm  hold  on  it, 
just  because  the  repetitions  are  not  frequent  enough ; 
whereas,  if  the  word  is  a  common  one,  and  occurs  frequently, 
the  same  number  of  references  to  the  dictionary  will  more 
than  suffice.  The  reason  of  this  is  that  the  after-impres- 
sions tend  to  fade  away  after  a  little  time,  so  that  each  ef- 
fect must  be  followed  up  by  another  soon  enough.  The 
process  may  be  likened  to  that  of  damming  a  stream  with 
stones.  If  we  throw  in  the  stones  with  sufficient  rapidity, 
we  may  succeed  in  fixing  a  barrier.  But  if  we  throw  in 
one  to-day,  and  another  to-morrow,  the  effect  of  the  first 
throw  will  be  obliterated  by  the  force  of  the  stream  before 
the  reinforcing  effect  of  the  second  is  added. 

These  two  conditions,  interest  and  repetition,  take  the 
place  of  one  another  to  a  certain  extent.  The  more  in- 
teresting an  impression,  the  fewer  the  repetitions  necessary 


ASSOCIATION  OF  IMPRESSION.  137 

to  fix  it  in  the  mind.     This  is  illustrated  in  the  words  of 

Juliet : 

"  My  ears  have  not  yet  drunk  a  hundred  words 
Of  that  tongue's  utterance,  yet  I  know  the  sound." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  more  frequently  an  impression 
recurs,  the  less  interesting  does  it  need  to  be  in  order  to 
find  a  lodgment  in  our  minds.  As  has  been  humorously  ob- 
served, even  matters  of  such  little  interest  to  us  as  the  fact 
that  Mr.  G.  sells  Eureka  shirts  stamp  themselves  on  our 
memory  after  they  have  been  repeatedly  forced  on  our  at- 
tention by  a  sufficient  profusion  of  advertisements.  Nev- 
ertheless, in  ordinary  cases  both  conditions  must  be  pres- 
ent in  considerable  force.  This  certainly  applies  to  the 
larger  part  of  school  acquisitions.  Interest  is  rarely 
so  keen  here  as  to  be  able  to  dispense  with  a  number  of 
repetitions.  On  the  other  hand,  no  number  of  repetitions 
of  a  lesson  will  avail  if  there  is  no  interest  taken  in  the 
subject,  and  the  thoughts  wander. 

(B)  Association  of  Impression. — When  an  impres- 
sion has  been  well  fixed  in  the  mind  there  remains  a  pre- 
disposition or  tendency  to  reproduce  it  under  the  form  of 
an  image.  The  degree  of  facility  with  which  we  recall 
any  object  always  depends  in  part  on  the  strength  of  this 
predisposition.  Nevertheless,  this  predisposition  will  not 
in  ordinary  cases  suffice  in  itself  to  effect  a  restoration 
after  a  certain  time  has  elapsed.  There  is  needed  further 
something  present  to  the  mind  to  suggest  the  image,  or 
remind  us  of  the  event  or  object.  Thus  the  sight  of  a 
place  reminds  us  of  an  event  which  happened  there,  the 
hearing  of  a  person's  name  of  that  person,  and  so  on. 
Such  a  reminder  constitutes  the  ''exciting"  as  distin- 
guished from  the  "  predisposing  "  cause.  The  reason  why 
so  many  incidents  of  our  past  life,  including  our  deeply 
interesting  dream-experiences,  appear  to  be  wholly  for- 
gotten is  that  there  is  nothing  in  our  present  surround- 
ings that  distinctly  reminds  us  of  them. 


138      MENTAL   REPRODUCTION— MEMORY, 

Whenever  we  are  thus  reminded  of  an  impression  by 
some  other  impression  (or  image),  it  is  because  this  is 
somehow  connected  in  our  minds  or  "  associated  "  with 
the  first.  Thus  the  event  is  associated  with  the  place 
which  recalls  it,  and  the  person  with  his  name.  Hence 
we  speak  of  association  as  the  second  great  condition  of 
reproduction. 

Different  Kinds  of  Association. — One  impression 
may  be  associated  with  another  in  different  ways.  Let  A 
stand  for  the  antecedent  or  reminder,  B  for  the  conse- 
quent or  the  representation  called  up.  Then  A  and  B 
may  correspond  to  two  objects  locally  connected,  as  two 
adjacent  buildings,  or  to  two  events  following  one  another 
in  time,  as  sunset  and  the  coming  on  of  darkness.  Or, 
again,  they  may  stand  for  two  like  objects,  as  a  portrait 
and  the  original.  These  various  kinds  of  connection  are 
reduced  by  the  psychologist  to  the  smallest  number  of 
principles  or  laws  of  association.  They  are  commonly 
brought  under  three  heads,  viz.,  contiguity,  similarity,  and 
contrast. 

(I)  Association  by  Contiguity. — Of  these  kinds  of 
association  the  most  important  is  that  known  as  contigu- 
ous association,  or  association  by  contiguity.  By  this  is 
meant  the  association  of  two  or  more  impressions  through, 
or  on  the  ground  of,  their  connection  in  time.  Its  law 
may  be  stated  briefly  as  follows  :  Presentations,  impres- 
sions, or  experiences  which  occur  together,  or  in  im- 
mediate succession,  will  afterward  tend  to  revive  or  sug- 
gest one  another. 

This  principle  is  illustrated  throughout  the  whole  pro- 
cess of  learning,  both  from  the  actual  inspection  of  things, 
and  by  way  of  others'  instruction.  Whenever  the  mind 
connects  two  or  more  impressions,  facts,  objects,  or  ex- 
periences, because  they  have  occurred  or  presented  them- 
selves together,  this  is  an  illustration  of  the  law  of  con- 
tiguity.    Thus,  in  coupling  an  action  with  the  person  who 


ASSOCIATION  BY  CONTIGUITY.  139 

performs  it,  or  a  thing  with  its  name,  or  an  event  with  the 
place  where  it  occurred,  we  are  illustrating  this  principle. 

The  more  important  varieties  of  contiguous  associa- 
tion may  be  brought  under  the  following  heads  :  (i)  First 
of  all,  we  have  impressions,  actions,  or  events,  which  occur 
together  or  in  immediate  succession,  as  the  sight  of  a  bell 
swinging  and  its  sound,  the  shining  of  the  sun  and  the 
feeling  of  warmth,  one  bit  of  a  tune  and  the  following  bit. 
Among  the  successions  of  actions  and  events  the  most 
important  are  those  of  cause  and  effect.  The  child  comes 
to  know  that  the  sun  warms,  that  rain  wets,  that  hard 
bodies  hurc,  that  his  own  actions  produce  certain  results, 
e.  g.,  the  removal  of  obstacles  by  noting  how  one  thing 
follows  another,  i.  e.,  by  connecting  things  according  to 
the  law  of  contiguity.  (2)  Next  may  be  mentioned  asso- 
ciations with  objects  including  persons.  Thus  the  child 
connects  the  various  properties  and  powers  it  discovers  in 
things,  such  as  the  divisibility  and  the  combustibility  of 
wood  with  this  substance,  the  voice,  gestures,  etc.,  of  per- 
sons with  these ;  also  the  uses  to  which  things  may  be  put 
and  the  gratifications  to  be  obtained  from  them  with  the 
objects  themselves,  such  as  the  ball's  capability  of  being 
rolled,  the  capabiHty  of  the  toy -bricks  to  support  others, 
and  so  forth.  (3)  Our  next  group  consists  of  local  asso- 
ciations, which  play  a  conspicuous  part  in  memory.  These 
include  {a)  connections  of  objects  with  places,  as  the 
cowslips  with  the  fields,  books,  toys,  etc.,  with  the  places 
where  they  are  put  away  and  kept;  {b)  events  and  places, 
as  the  meal,  the  lesson,  the  punishment,  and  so  on,  with 
the  room  in  which  they  take  place  ;  and  (c)  places  with 
other  and  contiguous  places,  and  features  of  the  environ- 
ment with  others  which  are  contiguous  in  place,  as  the 
sea  and  the  sandy  shore,  the  river  and  the  bridge  across 
it,  one  house  or  street  and  the  adjacent  one. 

All  learning  by  instruction,  too,  illustrates  the  same 
law.     In  learning  about  distant  places  and  about  the  past 


I40      MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

history  of  his  country,  the  child  has  to  build  up  associa- 
tion of  time  and  place  like  those  he  builds  up  in  the 
course  of  his  daily  observations  of  the  things  around  him. 
More  than  this,  learning  proceeds  very  largely  by  aid  of 
verbal  associations,  and  more  particularly  associations  of 
things  with  words,  and  one  word  with  another.  In  learn- 
ing the  names  of  objects,  places,  persons,  etc.,  the  child  is 
linking  together  impressions  that  occur  at  the  same  time. 
Thus  he  learns  the  name  of  a  person  by  hearing  the  sound 
while  the  person  is  present.  On  the  other  hand,  commit- 
ting anything  to  memory  by  stringing  on  a  series  of  words 
illustrates  the  association  of  consecutive  impressions.  One 
word  of  a  verse  has  to  be  connected  with  the  following,  and 
so  on. 

Strength  of  Associative  Cohesion.— The  law  of 
contiguity  speaks  of  a  tendency  to  call  up  or  suggest.  This 
means  that  the  suggestion  does  not  always  take  place,  that 
the  antecedent  is  not  always  followed  by  the  consequent, 
and  that,  in  some  cases,  the  sequence  is  much  more 
prompt  than  in  others.  We  may  easily  see  by  observation 
that  this  is  so.  Thus  we  sometimes  hear  names  of  persons 
and  places  without  representing  the  corresponding  objects  ; 
in  other  words,  the  names  do  not  call  up  the  appropriate 
images.  In  other  cases,  again,  the  revival  is  certain  and 
rapid,  as  when  a  familiar  word  in  the  native  tongue,  as 
"  home,"  *'  father,"  calls  up  the  idea  which  it  symbolizes. 
Indeed,  in  a  certain  class  of  cases,  the  revival  is  so  rapid 
that  the  mind  is  hardly  aware  of  a  transition  from  ante- 
cedent to  consequent.  Such  are  the  suggestions  of  a 
vocal  action  by  the  connected  sound  (articulate  or  musi- 
cal), of  a  manual  movement  by  a  visible  sign,  and  of  a 
feeling,  say  of  anger,  by  the  visible  expression.  We  ex- 
press this  fact  by  saying  that  there  are  different  degrees  of 
cohesion  among  our  impressions,  and  consequently  differ- 
ent degrees  of  suggestive  force. 

On  what  Suggestive  Force  depends.— The  sug- 


ON   WHAT  SUGGESTIVE  FORCE  DEPENDS.  141 

gestive  force  in  any  case  depends  on  the  same  two  cir- 
cumstances as  we  found  governing  the  persistence  of  im- 
pressions regarded  as  single  or  apart.  These  are  first  the 
amount  of  attention  given  to  the  impressions  when  they 
present  themselves  together  ;  and  secondly,  the  frequency 
of  their  concurrence. 

Two  impressions  may  become  closely  associated  with 
one  another  by  a  special  act  of  connective  attention  at 
the  time.  Thus,  when  a  child  is  greatly  interested  in  a 
stranger,  and  pays  particular  attention  to  his  name  at  the 
same  time,  he  in  a  manner  makes  one  object  of  them,  so 
that  the  recurrence  of  the  one  suggests  the  other.  In 
learning  a  lesson  in  geography  the  child  has  to  firmly 
conjoin  things,  e.  g.,  a  town  with  the  country  in  which  it 
lies,  the  river  on  which  it  stands,  etc.  The  greater  the 
force  of  attention  directed  to  two  objects,  and  the  more 
closely  the  mind  grasps  them  by  one  act  of  attention,  the 
stronger  will  be  the  resulting  association.  This  presup- 
poses a  development  of  the  power  of  attention  in  grasping 
a  plurality  of  objects  in  their  relations  of  time,  place,  etc. 
It  is  to  be  added  that  this  work  of  conjoining  impressions 
is  only  possible  when  the  mind  is  free  from  preoccupation, 
and  the  brain  is  in  a  fresh  and  active  condition. 

It  is,  however,  but  rarely  that  a  single  conjunction  of 
two  experiences  effects  a  permanent  association.  Repeti- 
tion of  the  original  experiences  is  necessary  in  the  great 
majority  of  instances.  All  our  enduring  knowledge  about 
the  things  around  us,  the  varying  phases  of  earth  and  sky, 
the  locality  we  live  in,  the  persons  we  are  familiar  with, 
involves  repetitions  of  impressions  together  or  in  company 
with  one  another.  The  child's  association  of  sunlight  and 
warmth,  of  a  street  with  the  interesting  shops  in  it,  of  a 
person  with  his  acts  of  kindness,  is  the  result  of  many  im- 
pressions. The  more  frequent  the  conjunction  of  the  im- 
pressions, the  stronger  the  resulting  bond  of  association 
between  them.     The  closest  associations,  such  as  those 


142       MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

between  vocal  actions  and  the  resulting  sounds,  words, 
and  the  things  named,  the  movements  of  expression,  and 
the  feelings  expressed,  are  the  result  of  innumerable  con- 
junctions extending  throughout  life.^^ 

Trains  of  Images.— x\ll  that  has  been  said  respect- 
ing pairs  of  impressions  and  the  resulting  representations 
applies  also  to  a  whole  series.  A  good  part  of  our  knowl- 
edge consists  of  trains  of  images  answering  to  recurring 
and  oft-repeated  series  of  sense-impressions.  Thus  our 
knowledge  of  a  street,  and  of  a  whole  town,  consists  of  a 
recoverable  train  of  visual  images.  In  like  manner,  we 
are  able  to  recall  a  series  of  visible  movements  or  actions, 
as  those  of  a  dance,  and  a  succession  of  sounds,  as  those 
of  a  tune.  Our  knowledge  of  every  kind  is  closely  con- 
nected with  language,  and  is  retained  to  a  considerable 
extent  by  help  of  series  of  words.  Again,  our  practical 
knowledge,  our  knowledge  how  to  perform  actions  of 
various  kinds,  such  as  dressing  and  undressing,  speaking 
and  writing,  is  made  up  of  chains  of  representations. 

All  such  chains  illustrate  the  effects  of  attention  and 
of  repetition.  The  more  closely  a  child  has  attended  to 
the  order  of  a  series  of  notes  or  words,  events  in  a  story, 
and  so  forth,  the  better  will  the  several  links  of  the  chain 
be  connected.  And  the  more  frequently  the  series  has 
been  gone  over,  the  easier  will  it  be  for  the  mind  after- 
ward to  reproduce  it.  In  cases  where  the  repetitions 
have  been  very  numerous,  the  mind  is  able  to  retrace  the 
succession  with  perfect  ease  and  in  a  semi-conscious  way, 
as  in  going  over  the  alphabet,  the  numerals,  etc. 

At  first  these  trains  of  representations  are  not  self- 
supporting.  They  are  bound  up  with,  and  dependent  on, 
actual  presentations.  Thus  a  child  learning  a  tune  is  able 
at  first  only  to  recall  the  successive  notes  step  by  step  as 
he  hears  the  tune  sung  (or  plays  it  himself).  That  is  to 
say,  revival  is  still  dependent  on  the  stronger  suggestive 
force   of   actual   impressions.      Gradually   the    series   of 


VERBAL  ASSOCIATIONS.  143 

images  becomes  independent  of  the  exciting  force  of  im- 
pressions. Thus,  when  the  tune  is  perfectly  learned,  the 
child's  mind  can  run  over  the  whole  without  any  aid  from 
the  ear. 

Verbal  Associations. — Among  the  most  important 
of  our  associations  are  those  of  words.  Language,  being 
the  medium  by  which  we  convey  our  impressions  and  ex- 
press our  thoughts  one  to  another,  plays  a  conspicuous 
part  as  a  suggestive  force.  We  habitually  recall  our  im- 
pressions by  the  aid  of  verbal  signs.  This  is  especially 
true  of  all  the  knowledge  we  gain  from  others,  or  learn 
by  instruction  and  reading.  Such  knowledge,  more  par- 
ticularly the  more  abstract  kinds,  is  embodied  in,  and  re- 
produced by,  words. 

Every  word  is  in  itself  the  result  of  joining  together 
a  number  of  elements.  The  first  step  in  learning  to 
speak  is  the  linking  on  of  a  definite  variety  of  vocal 
action  to  its  proper  sound.  Later  on,  when  the  child 
learns  to  read,  he  combines  with  this  associated  couple 
the  visual  symbol,  viz.,  the  printed  word.  Finally,  in 
learning  to  write,  the  child  builds  up  new  associations  be- 
tween definite  groups  of  finger-movements  and  the  corre- 
sponding visual  symbols. 

Again,  in  learning  language,  there  are  not  only  these 
associations  between  the  different  constituents  of  the 
word,  but  also  the  connecting  of  the  word  as  a  whole 
with  its  proper  idea.  Learning  to  speak,  to  read,  and  to 
write,  plainly  includes  this  further  connection  between 
the  word  symbol  and  its  meaning. 

These  verbal  groups  are  capable  of  becoming  associ- 
ated in  definite  series,  and  it  is  by  the  aid  of  such  series 
that  our  knowledge  of  things  in  their  order  of  time  and 
place  is  retained.  This  applies  to  what  the  child  himself 
observes,  for  he  loves  to  describe  what  he  has  seen  to 
others,  and  in  so  doing  he  makes  his  knowledge  more 
lasting  by  embodying  it  in  series  of  words.     And  it  ap- 


144      MENTAL  REPRODUCTION—MEMORY. 

plies  still  more  to  all  the  knowledge  gained  by  others*  in- 
struction. Here  the  facts  are  presented  to  him  by  the 
medium  of  language,  which  thus  naturally  comes  to  be 
taken  up  into  the  whole  mental  impression  retained.* 

(II)  Association  by  Similarity. —  Although  the 
principle  of  contiguity  covers  most  of  the  facts  of  mem- 
ory, it  is  usual  to  lay  down  other  principles  of  association 
as  well.  Of  these  the  most  important  is  association 
through  similarity.  This  principle  asserts  that  an  impres- 
sion (or  image)  will  tend  to  call  up  an  image  of  any  ob- 
ject previously  perceived  which  resembles  it.  Thus  the 
face  or  voice  of  a  stranger  suggests  by  resemblance  an- 
other and  familiar  one  ;  a  word  in  a  foreign  language,  a 
word  in  our  own,  and  so  forth.  The  more  conspicuous 
the  point  of  resemblance  between  two  things,  and  the 
greater  the  amount  of  their  resemblance  compared  with 
that  of  their  difference,  the  greater  the  suggestive  force. 

This  kind  of  association  is  plainly  marked  off  from  the 
first.  Contiguity  associates  objects,  events,  words,  etc., 
which  present  themselves  together,  or  at  (or  about)  the 
same  time  in  our  experience.  Similarity,  on  the  other 
hand,  brings  together  impressions,  objects,  and  events 
widely  remote  in  time.  Thus  a  face  or  a  bit  of  landscape 
seen  to-day  may  remind  us  of  another  seen  years  ago  in  a 
distant  part  of  the  globe. 

The  acquisition  of  knowledge  is  greatly  aided  by  this 
"attraction  of  similars,"  as  it  has  been  called.  If  every- 
thing we  had  to  learn,  whether  by  actual  observation  or 
by  books,  were  absolutely  new,  the  burden  would  be  in- 
supportable. When  a  boy  or  a  girl  studies  a  new  language, 
for  example,  the  similarities  very  greatly  shorten  the  labor. 
Thus,  when  the  German  word  Vogel  calls  up  the  familiar 

*  It  is  not  meant  that  all  the  elements  of  the  word  are  equally  dis- 
tinct in  all  cases.  When  a  child  learns  something  by  oral  instruction 
he  will  recall  the  sounds  ;  when  he  learns  from  a  book,  he  will  rather 
recall  the  visible  words. 


ASSOCIATION  BY  CONTRAST. 


145 


name  fowl,  its  meaning  is  at  once  fixed.  The  new  acquisition 
is  permanently  attached  to  the  pre-existing  stock  of  acqui- 
sitions through  a  link  of  similarity.  Or,  as  we  commonly 
express  it,  the  new  is  assimilated  to  the  old.  It  may  be 
added  that  every  discovery  of  similarity  in  the  midst  of 
diversity  is  attended  by  a  feeling  of  pleasurable  excite- 
ment or  elation  ;  and  this  acts  as  a  powerful  force  in  bind- 
ing together  the  similar  things  in  the  memory.^^ 

(Ill)  Association  by  Contrast.— In  addition  to  the 
principle  of  similarity,  another  principle  of  association 
known  as  contrast  is  frequently  laid  down.  By  this  is 
meant  that  one  impression,  object,  or  event,  tends  to  call 
up  the  image  of  its  opposite  or  contrast.  Thus  it  is  said 
that  black  suggests  white  ;  poverty,  wealth  ;  a  flat  country, 
a  mountainous,  and  so  forth. 

The  part  played  by  contrast  in  memory  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  all  knowledge  begins  with  marking  off  one  thing 
or  one  property  of  a  thing  from  other  and  different  ones. 
The  first  step  in  acquiring  knowledge  is  to  discriminate. 
The  child  first  discriminates  impressions  and  objects  of 
the  same  kind  which  are  widely  unlike,  or  opposed  to 
one  another,  as  light  and  dark,  sweet  and  sour,  a  big  and 
a  little  dog,  etc.  This  would  tend  to  build  up  in  the 
child's  mind  a  number  of  associations  between  contrasting 
things.  It  may  be  added  that  all  strong  dissimilarity  is  in 
itself  impressive,  and  tends  to  stamp  itself  on  the  mind. 
Children  are  struck  by  contrast  as  they  are  by  likeness. 
Thus  the  sight  of  a  tall  and  a  short  person  walking  together, 
or  of  something  very  unusual,  as  a  dwarf,  is  certain  to 
arrest  their  attention,  and  so  to  further  the  retention  of  a 
vivid  after-impression  of  the  objects  in  association.  In 
learning,  this  principle  may  be  made  use  of.  Thus,  a 
strongly  marked  contrast  in  two  contiguous  countries,  or 
two  consecutive  reigns  in  English  history,  helps  to  fix  the 
association  in  the  learner's  mind.* 

*  Mr.  Fitch  gives  a  good  example  of  the  effect  of  contrast  or  unex- 


146       MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

Complex  Associations. — So  far  it  has  been  assumed 
that  association  is  simple,  that  each  element  of  knowledge 
only  enters  into  a  single  associative  combination.  But 
this  does  not  correspond  with  the  facts.  Association  is 
highly  complex.  One  element  may  enter  as  a  member 
into  a  number  of  distinct  combinations.  Thus  the  image 
of  the  Colosseum  at  Rome  is  associated  with  that  of  events 
in  my  personal  history,  of  pleasam  days  passed  at  Rome, 
of  historical  events,  such  as  the  gladiatorial  combats  of  the 
Empire,  its  conquests  and  luxury,  etc.  The  threads  of 
association  are  not  distinct  and  parallel,  like  the  strings  of 
a  harp,  but  intersect  one  another,  forming  an  intricate 
network. 

Co-operation  of  Associations. — One  result  of  this 
complexity  is  that  different  threads  of  association  con- 
verge in  the  same  point  ;  so  that  the  recalling  of  a  fact 
may  take  place  by  the  co-operation  of  a  number  of  sug- 
gesting forces.  The  general  effect  of  such  co-operation 
may  be  stated  in  the  principle  that  the  more  numerous  the 
associations  between  a  particular  impression  and  other 
mental  elements,  and  the  more  firmly  it  is  associated  with 
each,  the  more  likely  is  it  to  be  recalled. 

In  recalling  a  series  of  words,  for  example,  as  those  of 
a  poem,  the  child's  mind  may  travel  along  any  one  of  a 
number  of  parallel  paths.  Thus  it  may  move  now  along 
that  of  the  sounds,  now  along  that  of  the  visual  signs,  and 
now  along  the  series  of  images  or  ideas  corresponding  to 
the  objects  described  and  events  narrated.  And  thus,  if 
the  members  of  one  series  are  not  firmly  knit  together,  his 
mind  can  make  use  of  the  other  series.  Thus,  in  forgetting 
how  the  sounds  follow  one  another,  it  may  take  advantage 
of  the  visual  series,  the  images  of  the  printed  words. 

To  take  another  and  somewhat  different  kind  of  exw 

pectedness  in  imprinting  a  fact  on  the  memory,  viz.,  learning  for  the 
first  time  that  "  Rule  Britannia"  was  written  by  Thompson,  the  singer 
of  quiet  pastorals.     "  Lectures  on  Teaching,"  p.  130. 


OBSTRUCTIVE  ASSOCIATIONS.  147 

ample  :  the  date  of  an  historical  event  is  associated  with 
that  of  simultaneous  events  at  home  or  abroad,  and  of 
preceding  and  succeeding  events.  And  so  a  child  may 
recall  it  by  way  of  any  one  of  these  channels.  These  com- 
binations include  associations  by  similarity  as  well  as  by 
contiguity.  A  person's  name  may  be  recalled  not  only  by 
recalling  his  appearance,  the  book  of  which  he  is  the 
author,  and  so  on,  but  also  by  way  of  some  other  name 
which  it  resembles.  Thus  the  succession  of  Saxon  kings 
is  aided  by  the  similarity  of  their  names.  In  like  manner 
the  learning  of  the  verses  of  a  poem  is  aided  by  the  simi- 
larities of  meter  and  rhyme. 

Obstructive  Associations. — While  looked  at  from 
one  point  of  view  the  fact  of  the  complexity  of  association 
is  an  aid  to  memory,  looked  at  from  another  it  is  an  ob- 
struction. If  an  impression  or  fact  is  associated  with  a 
number  of  other  impressions,  disconnected  one  with  an- 
other, then  the  mind  in  setting  out  from  this  image  is 
liable  to  be  borne  along  any  one  of  a  divergent  series  of 
paths.  Accordingly  it  is  less  likely  to  strike  upon  any  one 
particular  path  that  is  required  at  the  moment.  It  is  like 
being  in  a  town  and  having  to  find  one's  way  out  in  a  par- 
ticular direction,  instead  of  being  outside  and  having  to 
find  the  way  into  it.  The  multiplicity  of  paths  which  was 
an  advantage  in  the  one  case  is  a  hindrance  in  the  other. 
The  errors  of  confusion  into  which  children  are  apt  to  fall 
when,  in  repeating  a  poem,  singing  a  tune  from  memory, 
and  so  forth,  they  go  off  on  a  wrong  mental  tack,  are  due 
to  the  fact  that  certain  members  of  the  series  they  are 
recalling,  e.  g.,  phrases  of  the  poem  or  of  the  tune,  enter 
into  other  associations,  and  so  lead  their  minds  astray. 
This  effect  of  association  in  leading  the  mind  away  from 
what  is  wanted  has  been  marked  off  as  obstructive  associ- 
ation. 

Active  Reproduction :  Recollection. — The  repro- 
duction of  impressions  is  very  often  a  perfectly  passive  or 


148      MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

mechanical  operation,  in  which  there  is  no  control  of  the 
process  by  the  will.  In  many  of  our  idle  moments,  as  in 
taking  a  walk  in  the  country,  the  mind  abandons  itself  to 
the  forces  of  suggestion. 

In  contrast  to  this  passive  reproduction,  there  is  an 
active  reproduction  in  which  the  will  co-operates.  Here 
the  succession  of  images  is  still  ultimately  determined  by 
the  laws  of  association.  The  will  can  not  secure  a  revival 
of  any  impression  except  by  the  aid  of  these  laws.  A  child, 
for  example,  can  not  recall  yesterday's  lesson  simply  by 
resolving,  if  the  lesson  has  not  previously  been  learned 
and  connected  with  other  knowledge.  But  he  can  by  an 
effort  of  will  guide  and  control  the  operations  of  his  mind 
at  the  time,  and  so  aid  in  the  reproduction  of  what  he  has 
learned.  This  active  side  of  reproduction  is  best  marked 
off  as  recollection. 

The  will  exerts  itself  here  in  an  act  of  mental  concen- 
tration, which  serves  to  give  greater  distinctness  and  per- 
sistence to  what  is  before  the  mind.  Thus,  if  a  child  is 
asked  the  date  of  a  certain  battle,  he  may  by  an  act  of 
concentrated  attention  give  clearness  and  fullness  to  the 
image  of  the  battle.  And  by  so  doing  he  helps  to  give 
effect  to  the  associative  force  connecting  the  event  and  the 
date.  Not  only  so,  the  will  accomplishes  an  important 
work  in  resisting  obstructive  associations,  turning  away 
from  all  misleading  suggestions,  and  following  out  the 
clews.  The  revival  of  an  impression,  as  of  a  name,  or  an 
event,  is  very  often  a  gradual  process.  We  are  often  dimly 
aware  beforehand  of  the  character  of  the  impression  or 
fact  we  desire  to  call  up  clearly.  And  by  a  resolute  effort 
we  may  keep  pursuing  the  right  path  till  we  reach  it. 

It  is  not  only  in  this  form  of  a  severe  effort  to  recall 
what  is  temporarily  forgotten  that  the  co-operation  of  the 
will  is  important.  It  enters,  in  a  less  marked  manner,  into 
all  our  ordinary  processes  of  mental  reproduction.  Even 
in  repeating  a  well-learned  poem  the  child's  will,  by  an 


RECOLLECTION. 


149 


effort  so  slight  that  he  maybe  scarcely  aware  of  it,  steadies 
the  whole  operation,  securing  the  due  succession  of  the 
several  members  of  the  train,  and  the  avoidance  of  mis- 
leading suggestions.  And  the  relaxation  of  this  attitude 
of  attention  at  any  moment  would  be  fatal  to  the  repro- 
duction. 

This  ability  to  control  the  reproductive  processes 
reaches  its  highest  development  in  a  habit  of  going  over 
the  contents  of  memory,  and  following  out,  now  one  path, 
now  another,  according  to  the  purpose  in  hand.  It  is  this 
ability  which  is  illustrated  in  the  readiness  of  a  child  to 
find  facts  associated  with  a  particular  place  or  period, 
examples,  analogies,  etc.,  when  called  upon  to  do  so. 
This  ready  command  of  the  mind's  store  of  knowledge  by 
the  will  presupposes  that  there  has  been  an  orderly  ar- 
rangement of  the  materials,  that  when  new  acquisitions 
were  made,  these  were  linked  on  (by  contiguity  and  simi- 
larity, to  old  acquisitions.  It  is  only  when  there  has  been 
the  full  co-operation  of  the  will  in  this  earlier  or  acquisi- 
tive stage  that  there  can  be  a  ready  command  of  the  ma- 
terials  gained  in  the  later  stage  of  reproduction. 


CHAPTER   X. 

MEMORY  (continued). 

Memory  and  its  Degrees. — Memory  is  the  power 
of  retaining  and  reproducing  anything  that  has  been  im- 
pressed on  the  mind,  whether  by  way  of  the  senses  or 
through  the  medium  of  language.  Its  laws  were  consid- 
ered in  the  foregoing  chapter.  We  have  now  to  examine 
into  the  several  varieties  of  this  mental  power,  and  its 
mode  of  development. 

The  degree  of  perfection  with  which  we  remember 
anything  may  be  measured  by  two  main  tests — (i)  the 
length  of  time  during  which  the  mind  retains  the  impres- 
sion, and  (2)  the  degree  of  distinctness  of  the  images 
recalled  and  the  readiness  with  which  they  are  recalled. 
A  child  remembers  well  when  he  remembers  long  and  per- 
manently. And  he  remembers  well  when  he  can  call  up 
distinctly  what  he  has  learned. 

Although  we  commonly  speak  of  memory  as  if  it  were 
a  simple  indivisible  faculty,  it  would  be  more  correct  to 
say  that  it  consists  of  a  number  of  distinct  powers,  as  the 
retention  of  sights,  sounds,  and  so  forth.  It  is  one  thing 
to  recall  a  musical  sound  or  a  series  of  such  sounds,  an- 
other to  recall  a  group  of  visible  objects.  There  are  as 
many  compartments  of  memory  as  there  are  kinds  of  im- 
pression. Thus  there  is  a  memory  for  visual  impressions, 
and  another  for  auditory  impressions.  Within  the  limits 
of  one  and  the  same  sense,  too,  there  are  distinct  differ- 


REVIVABILITY   OF  IMPRESSIONS. 


151 


ences  of  memory.  Thus  the  memory  for  colors  is  differ- 
ent from  the  memory  for  forms,  the  memory  for  musical 
sounds  from  the  memory  for  articulate  sounds.  In  addi- 
tion to  these  retentions  of  passive  impressions  there  are 
retentions  of  active  experiences,  as  our  various  manual 
movements  and  our  vocal  actions. 

Speaking  generally,  and  disregarding  for  the  present 
individual  differences,  we  may  say  that  the  higher  the 
sense  in  point  of  discriminative  refinement  the  better  the 
corresponding  memory.  We  appear  to  recall  sights  best 
of  all.  Our  knowledge  of  things  is  largely  made  up  of 
visual  pictures.  Next  to  sights  come  sounds.  As  pointed 
out  above,  words  play  an  important  secondary  part  in  the 
memory  of  things.  Then  follow  touches,  which  are  less 
easily  revived,  and  finally  smells  and  tastes,*  which  are 
only  faintly  revivable.  Further,  since  the  muscular  sense 
is  characterized  by  a  high  degree  of  refinement,  the  reten- 
tion of  our  active  experiences  is  in  general  relatively  good. 
It  must  be  remembered,  too,  that  our  muscular  experi- 
ences are  uniformly  accompanied  by  passive  impressions, 
and  that  these  serve  materially  to  support  the  retention. 
Thus  the  child  recalls  the  manual  movements  involved  in 
writing  or  in  playing  the  piano,  by  the  aid  of  visual  images 
of  his  moving  hands. 

Beginning's  and  Growth  of  Memory. — Memory 
presupposes  a  certain  exercise  of  the  senses  and  the 
growth  of  perception.  Images  do  not  appear  till  sense- 
knowledge  has  reached  a  certain  stage  of  development. 
The  inability  of  the  infant  mind  to  keep  up  an  image 
even  a  short  time  after  an  impression  is  illustrated  in 
the  fact  that  after  examining  a  biscuit-tin  and  finding 
nothing  in  it,  it  will  presently  put  its  hand  in  again,  quite 
losing  sight  of  its   previous  experience.      On   the  other 

*  It  has  often  beeii  remarked  that  thotigh  we  dream  of  banquets,  it 
is  the  look  of  the  delicious  viands  that  we  imagine  rather  thaa  their 
flavors. 


1 5  2  MEMOR  Y— {CONTINUED), 

hand,  children,  even  in  this  early  period,  clearly  display 
the  lower  form  of  retentive  power,  viz.,  that  of  recog- 
nizing objects  when  they  reappear  after  an  interval. 
Thus  a  child  less  than  three  months  old  will  remember 
the  face  of  his  nurse  or  father  for  some  weeks.  The 
first  distinct  images  are  the  result  of  many  accumulating 
traces  of  percepts.  They  are  such  as  are  closely  associ- 
ated with,  and  so  immediately  called  up  by,  the  actual  im- 
pressions of  the  moment.  The  interesting  experiences  of 
the  meal,  the  bath,  and  the  walk  are  the  first  to  be  dis- 
tinctly represented.  As  the  interest  in  things  extends,  and 
the  observing  powers  grow,  distinct  mental  pictures  of  ob- 
jects are  formed.  A  child  of  three  months  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  watch  a  bird  singing  in  a  cage,  when  it 
happened  to  see  the  cage  without  the  bird,  showed  all  the 
signs  of  bitter  disappointment.* 

Repetition  of  Experience.— As  experiences  repeat 
themselves  and  traces  accumulate,  the  mental  images  be- 
come more  distinct,  and  are  more  firmly  associated  ;  also 
the  number  of  representations  and  of  associative  links  in- 
creases. The  learning  of  the  meaning  of  words,  which 
begins  about  the  age  of  six  months,  i.  e.,  several  months 
before  the  actual  employment  of  them,  greatly  enlarges  the 
range  of  suggestion.!  After  this  the  mother  or  the  nurse 
is  able  to  call  up  the  image  of  absent  objects,  such  as  per- 
sons or  animals,  by  talking  of  them.  The  repetition  of 
conjunctions  of  experience  further  brings  about  whole 
groups  and  series  of  representations.  The  child's  mind  is 
able  to  pass  not  only  from  the  actual  impression  of  the 

*  M.  Perez.  "  The  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p.  147.  Mr. 
Darwin,  in  some  notes  of  one  of  his  children,  records  the  first  distinct 
appearances  of  ideas  or  images  at  five  months.  At  this  age  the  child, 
as  soon  as  his  hat  and  cloak  had  been  put  on,  became  very  cross  if  not 
taken  out  at  once. 

f  Mr.  Darwin's  boy  at  the  age  of  seven  months  would  turn  and 
look  at  his  nurse  when  her  name  was  pronounced. 


HOIV  MEMORY  IMPROVES.  153 

moment  to  the  image  of  something  immediately  accom- 
panying it,  but  from  this  last  to  another  image,  and  so  on. 
Thus  a  child  of  eighteen  months  will  mentally  rehearse  a 
series  of  experiences,  as  those  of  a  walk  :  "  Go  tata,  see 
geegee,  bowwow,"  etc. 

New  Experiences. — The  child's  experience  is  not  a 
mere  series  of  repetitions.  There  is  a  continual  widen- 
ing of  the  range  of  objects  and  impressions.  This  exten- 
sion is  due  in  part  to  the  expansion  of  his  interest  in 
things,  and  in  part  to  the  changes  in  his  environment.  In 
this  way  fresh  materials  are  being  stored  up  in  the  mem- 
ory. And  the  growth  of  memory  shows  itself  in  the  in- 
creasing range  and  rapidity  of  these  new  acquisitions. 

These  two  aspects  of  the  growth  of  memory,  the  attain- 
ment of  a  firmer  hold  on  what  has  been  learned,  and  the 
extension  of  the  area  of  acquisition,  are  to  a  certain  extent 
opposed.  The  further  fixing  of  the  old  uses  up  mental 
energy  required  for  adding  new  elements  to  the  stock  of 
acquisitions.  The  conservative  tendency  in  memory 
works  against  the  progressive.  And  conversely,  the  throw- 
ing of  mental  energy  into  the  work  of  acquiring  new 
knowledge  tends  to  the  displacement  of  the  old.  This  lat- 
ter effect  is  more  manifest  in  early  life.*  The  child  has 
his  past  impressions  rendered  indistinct  by  the  flood  of 
new  ones  that  excite  his  interest  and  engage  his  mental 
energy.  This  effect,  however,  becomes  less  noticeable  as 
his  powers  gain  in  strength.  A  child  of  six  or  eight  years 
manages  to  lay  up  new  materials  with  far  less  loss  of  old 
ones  than  one  of  three  or  four.  And  this  advantage  is  due 
not  merely  to  an  improvement  in  the  capacity  of  memory, 
but  in  part  to  an  increased  ability  to  discover  the  links  of 
association  between  the  new  and  the  old. 

How  Memory  Improves. — This  process  of  growth, 
this  continual  increase  in  the  store  of  acquisitions,  implies 

*  In  old  age  the  other  effect,  the  exclusion  of  new  acquisitions  by  a 
tenacious  clinging  to  the  old,  is  most  apparent. 


1 54  MEMOR  Y— {CONTINUED). 

an  improvement  in  the  power  of  seizing  and  retaining 
new  impressions.  By  this  is  meant  that  any  particular  ac- 
quisitive task  will  become  easier,  and  that  more  difficult 
feats  of  retention  will  become  possible. 

The  progress  of  retentive  and  reproductive  power  may 
be  viewed  under  three  aspects.  First  of  all,  impressions 
will  be  acquired  or  stored  up  more  readily  (for  a  given 
time).  Less  concentration  and  fewer  repetitions  are 
needed  for  the  fixing  of  an  impression.  Or,  to  put  it 
otherwise,  a  given  amount  of  concentration  and  repetition 
will  lead  to  a  storing  up  of  more  material,  that  is,  more 
complex  groups  of  impressions.  This  may  be  called  in- 
creased facility  in  acquisition.  Secondly,  impressions  are 
retained  longer.  A  given  amount  of  effort  in  the  acquisi- 
tive stage  will  result  in  a  more  enduring  or  permanent  re- 
tention. This  aspect  may  be  marked  off  as  an  increase  in 
the  tenacity  of  memory.  Thirdly,  this  progress  implies  a 
more  perfect  form  of  revival.  That  is  to  say,  impressions 
will  be  recalled  more  readily  and  with  a  higher  degree  of 
distinctness  and  fidelity  than  formerly. 

Causes  of  Growth  of  Memory. — This  increase  in 
retentive  power  is  due  to  some  considerable  extent  to  the 
spontaneous  development  of  the  brain  powers.  All  men- 
tal acquisition  appears  to  involve  certain  formations  or 
structural  changes  in  the  brain.  The  capability  of  the 
organ  of  undergoing  these  changes,  or  what  has  been 
called  its  plastic  power,  increases  rapidly  during  the  early 
part  of  life.  Impressions  of  all  sorts  stamp  themselves 
more  deeply  on  the  mind  of  a  child  ten  years  old  than  on 
that  of  a  child  three  or  four  years  old,  owing  to  this 
greater  plasticity  of  the  brain.  This  condition  explains 
the  precocity  of  memory.  It  is  commonly  said  that  the 
power  of  storing  up  new  impressions  reaches  its  maximum 
in  early  youth,  and  the  fact  is  undoubtedly  connected 
with  the  physiological  fact  that  later  on  the  structure  of 
the  brain  is  more  set,  or  less  modifiable. 


VARIETIES  OF  MEMORY.  155 

While  the  development  of  memory  is  thus  dependent 
on  the  gradual  unfolding  of  the  plastic  power  of  the  brain^ 
it  is  not  wholly  determined  by  this.  A  child  whose  facul- 
ties were  not  duly  exercised  by  the  supply  of  external  ob- 
jects, and  of  impressions  to  be  stored  up  and  recalled? 
would  not  attain  to  the  normal  degree  of  retentive  power 
of  his  years.  The  actual  progress  of  memory,  the  im- 
provement in  the  aptitude  to  acquire  and  reproduce 
knowledge,  is  the  result  of  a  constant  exercise  of  the 
faculty.  The  precise  effects  of  this  exercise  will  be 
spoken  of  presently  when  we  come  to  consider  the  differ- 
ent directions  in  which  memory  is  susceptible  of  develop- 
ment. 

Varieties  of  Memory,  General  and  Special. — 
There  is  probably  no  power  which  varies  more  among 
individuals  than  memory.  The  interval  which  separates 
a  person  of  average  memory  from  one  of  the  historical 
examples,  as  Joseph  Scaliger,  Pascal,  or  Macaulay,  seems 
scarcely  measurable.* 

One  person's  memory  may  differ  from  another's  in  a 
number  of  respects.  In  the  first  place,  one  learner  may 
exhibit  more  of  one  of  the  properties  of  a  good  memory 
specified  above.  For  example,  one  boy  will  be  quick  in 
acquiring,  but  not  correspondingly  tenacious,  illustrating 
the  saying  '*  easy  come,  easy  go."  Another  boy  will  re- 
tain firmly  what  he  has  once  thoroughly  learned,  but  be 
wanting  in  readiness  in  bringing  out  and  using  what  he 
knows.  On  the  other  hand,  a  boy  may  show  himself 
particularly  smart  in  recalling  and  displaying  his  knowl- 
edge, and  yet,  like  many  a  fluent  talker,  be  only  a  super- 
ficial learner.  These  differences  give  well-marked  peculiari- 
ties of  character  to  the  memories  of  different  individuals. 

In  the  second  place,  there  are  very  distinct  differences 

*  Casaubon  says  of  Scaliger  :  "  He  read  nothing  (and  what  did  he 
not  read  ?)  which  he  did  not  forthwith  remember,"  Pascal  says  he 
never  forgot  anything  which  he  had  read  or  thought. 


1 56  MEMOR  Y— {CONTINUED). 

amcng  children  and  adults  with  respect  to  the  range  of 
memory,  or  the  amount  and  variety  of  material  which  can 
be  retained.  Some  persons  of  exceptional  endowment 
have  a  good  average  power  of  retaining  impressions  of  all 
kinds,  whereas  there  are  others  who  have  a  low  average 
capacity.  This  would  be  called  a  difference  in  general 
memory. 

From  these  differences  in  average  power  of  retentive- 
ness  we  may  distinguish  differences  in  special  directions, 
or  special  memory.  Thus,  for  example,  one  boy  will  be 
found  to  have  a  good  retentive  power  for  impressions  of 
sight  or  of  hearing  as  a  whole,  whereas  others  will  show 
a  deficiency  on  this  side.  Or,  again,  a  child  may  display 
special  aptitude  in  retaining  some  particular  variety  of 
these,  as  impressions  of  color  or  of  musical  sound.  Or, 
once  more,  our  memory  may  display  particular  strength 
in  the  retention  of  some  circumscribed  group  of  objects^ 
as  faces.  In  this  way  arise  what  are  known  as  the  musical 
memory,  pictorial  memory,  the  memory  for  faces,  scenery, 
etc.  As  illustrations  of  such  exceptional  retentive  power 
in  particular  directions,  may  be  mentioned  Horace  Vernet 
and  Gustave  Dore,  who  could  paint  a  portrait  from  mem- 
ory ;  Mozart,  who  wrote  down  the  '"''Miserere''  of  the  Sis- 
tine  Chapel  after  hearing  it  twice. 

Even  differences  in  general  power  of  memory  prob- 
ably turn  to  a  considerable  extent  on  special  differences, 
namely,  in  verbal  retention.  Although  to  recall  words 
is  not  the  same  as  to  recall  things,  the  latter  operation  can 
not  be  carried  on  to  any  considerable  extent  apart  from 
the  former.  Hence  a  large,  capacious  memory  has  in  all 
cases  been  largely  sustained  by  an  exceptional  verbal  re- 
tentiveness. 

Besides  the  points  of  difference  just  enumerated,  there  are  others 
which  are  by  no  means  unimportant.  Thus  we  find  that  memories 
vary  not  only  with  respect  to  the  particular  impressions  which  are  best 
recalled,  but   also   with   respect   to  the  particular  mode  of  grouping 


CAUSES  OF  DIFFERENCE, 


157 


which  is  most  successful.  Thus,  some  appear  to  connect  visible  objects 
locally  better  than  others  ;  whereas  these  last  may  have  a  better  power 
of  linking  together  successive  pictures  answering  to  events.  The 
former  would  have  a  better  local,  pictorial,  or  geographical  memory, 
the  latter  a  better  historical,  or  possibly  a  better  scientific  memory. 
Closely  connected  with  these  differences  are  those  due  to  the  habitual 
way  of  committing  things  to  memory,  or  arranging  acquisitions  in  the 
mind.  Some  minds  tend  to  connect  things  with  their  adjuncts  of  time 
and  place,  whereas  others  rather  arrange  their  impressions  according 
to  their  relations  of  similarity,  cause  and  effect,  etc. 

Causes  of  Difference. — These  differences  are  plainly- 
due  either  to  native  inequalities  or  to  differences  in  the 
kind  and  amount  of  exercise  undergone  in  the  course  of 
the  past  life.  There  are  native  differences  with  respect  to 
the  average  retentive  power,  by  reason  of  which  one  child 
is  from  the  first  capable  of  retaining  impressions  of  all 
kinds  more  easily  than  another.  Such  inequalities  are  no 
doubt  connected  with  differences  in  the  degree  of  struct- 
ural perfection  of  the  organs  as  a  whole,  namely,  the 
sense-organs  and  the  brain.  As  Locke  observes,  "An 
impression  made  on  bees-wax  or  lead  will  not  last  so 
long  as  on  brass  or  steel."  *  In  addition  to  these  origi- 
nal differences  of  brain  plasticity  as  a  whole,  there  are 
special  differences  connected  with  the  varying  degrees  of 
perfection  of  particular  sense-organs.  Thus  a  child  with 
a  good  natural  ear  for  musical  sounds  would  be  likely  to 
retain  these  impressions  better  than  another  child  wanting 
this  sense-endowment.  And  this  for  a  double  reason : 
(i)  because  such  a  superiority  would  imply  a  finer  dis- 
criminative capacity  in  respect  of  sound  (and  retentive- 
nes3  varies  roughly  with  the  degree  of  discrimination)  ; 
and  (2)  because  this  natural  superiority  commonly  carries 
with  it  a  special  interest  in  the  impressions  concerned.  A 
child  with  a  good  ear  for  musical  sounds  will  in  general 
take  special  pleasure  in  noting  their  peculiarities. 

At  the  same  time  it  is  clear  that  the  differences  observ- 
*  "  Concerning  Education,"  §  176. 


158      MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

able  in  people's  memories  are  due  in  part  to  differences  of 
circumstances,  exercise,  and  education.  While  in  the  case 
of  every  individual  the  amount  of  ''natural  retentiveness  " 
or  degree  of  "  brain  plasticity  "  limits  the  power  of  memory 
as  a  whole,  much  may  be  done  by  suitable  exercise  to 
improve  the  faculty  within  these  limits.  The  discipline 
of  the  school,  if  judicious,  tends  very  materially  to  im- 
prove the  child's  memory  by  developing  the  potential 
capacities  of  his  brain. 

It  is,  however,  in  the  improvement  of  memory  in 
special  directions  that  the  effects  of  exercise  are  most 
conspicuous.  Assuming  the  whole  retentive  power  of  the 
individual's  brain  to  be  a  definite  quantity  not  susceptible 
of  being  increased  by  exercise,  it  is  evident  that  his  special 
circumstances  and  education  will  determine  the  particular 
channels  into  which  this  brain-energy  is  diverted.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  habitual  direction  of  the  mind  to  any 
class  of  impressions  very  materially  strengthens  the  reten- 
tive power  in  respect  of  these.  The  blind  not  only  per- 
ceive by  touch  better  than  those  who  see,  but  recall  and 
imagine  touches  in  a  way  that  we  perhaps  can  hardly 
understand.  Owing  to  this  effect  of  habitual  concentra- 
tion each  mind  becomes  specially  retentive  in  the  direction 
in  which  its  ruling  interest  lies.  Thus  every  special  em- 
ployment, as  that  of  engineer,  linguist,  or  musician,  tends 
to  produce  a  corresponding  special  retentiveness  of  mem- 
ory. 

It  is  of  the  greatest  importance  to  understand  the  pre- 
cise effects  of  exercise  on  the  improvement  of  memory  as 
a  whole  and  in  special  forms.  As  already  pointed  out, 
there  are  limits  set  to  the  retentive  powers  of  every  indi- 
vidual. The  whole  aggregate  of  acquisitions  is  determined 
by  the  child's  co-efficient  of  brain  plasticity.  Conse- 
quently, energy  used  up  in  strengthening  the  memory  on 
one  side  necessarily  hinders  an  equal  development  of  it  on 
other  sides.     Not  only  so,  the  exercising  of  the  memory  in 


TRAINING  OF   THE  MEMORY.  159 

any  given  direction  develops  certain  predominant  interests 
and  modes  of  association  which  tells  against  the  conquest 
of  a  new  region  of  acquisition.  Thus,  a  boy  who  has  been 
absorbed  in  linguistic  study,  in  analyzing  the  forms  of 
verbal  structure,  is,  pro  tanto,  disqualified  for  a  genuine 
study  of  literature,  as  such.  His  habit  of  considering 
grammatical  forms  would  impede  the  free  concentration 
of  the  thoughts  on  the  quality  of  the  ideas  and  of  the 
literary  style.* 

There  is  no  doubt  a  set-off  against  this.  All  learning 
is  one  and  the  same  process.  Consequently,  the  learning 
one  thing  well  will  undoubtedly  help  the  pupil  to  attain 
the  art  of  learning  things  well  generally.  Thus,  the  attain- 
ment of  readiness  and  skill  in  mastering  materials,  in  fixing 
the  thoughts,  in  arranging,  and  so  on,  will  very  materially 
reduce  the  labor  of  learning  a  new  subject. 

Again,  so  far  as  the  new  subject  presents  points  of 
analogy  and  attachment  to  the  old  one,  the  earlier  attain- 
ments will  of  course  further  the  later  ones.  Thus,  a  boy 
who  has  mastered  one  science  will  be  better  placed  for 
attacking  another.  This  helpful  effect,  however,  is  most 
apparent  where  the  new  and  the  old  subjects  belong  to 
the  same  domain  of  learning.  The  mastery  of  a  number 
of  languages  helps  the  acquisition  of  a  new  one  to  so  large 
an  extent  that  a  man  can  go  on  gaining  in  the  power  of 
learning  languages  long  after  the  period  of  greatest  plas- 
ticity of  brain  is  past. 

Training  of  the  Memory. — To  exercise  and  im- 
prove the  memory  is  allowed  by  all  to  be  one  chief  part  of 
the  business  of  the  educator,  and  more  especially  the 
school-teacher.  Hence  it  is  a  matter  of  importance  to 
understand  what  is  involved  in  the  training  of  the  faculty, 
and  by  what  methods  it  may  be  best  effected. 

*  This  is  emphasized  by  Beneke,  who  observes  that  "  every  mental 
connection  already  formed,  and  formed  with  a  certain  degree  of 
strength,  is  prejudicial  to  the  formation  of  the  new  connection." 


l6o      MENTAL   REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

The  training  of  the  memory  aims  directly  at  exercising 
the  child  in  storing  up  and  reproducing  a  quantity  of  val- 
uable intellectual  material,  impressions,  facts,  and  truths. 
This  material  is  obtained  either  directly  by  the  observa- 
tion of  real  things,  as  in  the  object-lesson,  or  indirectly  by 
way  of  verbal  instruction.  The  more  firmly  the  knowl- 
edge is  retained,  and  the  more  readily  and  distinctly  it  is 
reproduced,  the  better  the  training. 

Along  with  this  result,  the  accumulation  and  mastery 
of  so  much  knowledge,  the  educator  aims  by  means  of 
such  acquisition  at  improving  the  child's  power  of  acquir- 
ing and  retaining  other  knowledge  than  that  learned  in  the 
process.  In  other  words,  he  seeks  to  produce  a  good  type 
of  the  acquisitive  or  learning  faculty  in  general.  As 
Locke  puts  it,  "the  business  of  education  is  not,  as  I 
think,  to  make  them  (the  young)  perfect  in  any  one  of  the 
sciences,  but  so  to  open  and  dispose  their  minds,  as  may 
best  make  them  capable  of  any,  when  they  shall  apply 
themselves  to  it,"  *  And  so  far  as  the  teacher  makes  this 
wider  result  his  object,  he  will  be  guided  in  his  choice  of 
materials,  as  well  as  of  method,  by  their  fitness  to  contribute 
most  effectually  to  the  improvement  of  the  learning  faculty. 

The  culture  of  a  child's  memory  claims  the  educator's 
attention  from  the  first.  As  a  precocious  faculty  it  needs 
to  be  exercised  by  the  parent  before  the  period  of  school 
life.  The  fact  that  early  impressions  are  the  most  lasting 
makes  it  specially  important  that  a  right  direction  should 
be  given  to  the  first  development  of  the  faculty.f 

This  regulation  of  the  acquisitive  processes  may  be  said 
to  begin  with  the  use  of  language  by  the  nurse  and  the 
mother  in  naming  to  the  child  the  various  objects  of  sight. 
The  systematic  training  of  the  memory  should  be  first  car- 
ried out  in  close  connection  with  observation.     The  mean- 

*  "  Of  the  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,"  ed.  by  Prof  Fowler,  p.  44. 
f  "  Natura  tenacissimi  sumus  eorum,  quoe  rudibus  annis  percepi- 
mus."     (Quintilian.) 


TRAINING   OF   THE  MEMORY.  i6l 

ing  of  words  should  be  taught  by  connecting  them  with 
the  real  objects,  that  is  to  say,  by  simultaneously  naming 
and  pointing  out  an  object.  The  naming  of  the  proper- 
ties and  effects  of  things  is  an  important  completion  of  the 
object-lesson.  As  supplementary  to  this,  the  child  should 
be  exercised  in  recalling  by  means  of  words  the  impres- 
sions directly  received  from  external  objects.  The  parent 
can  do  much  to  develop  the  memory  of  the  child  by  en- 
couraging him  to  describe  what  he  sees,  to  narrate  the 
day's  experience,  and  so  forth. 

After  a  sufficient  store  of  first-hand  knowledge  has 
thus  been  accumulated,  the  memory  should  be  trained  in 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge  about  things  at  second-hand, 
that  is  to  say,  through  the  medium  of  instruction.  The 
early  period  of  school  life  is  said  to  be  the  most  favorable 
one  for  the  building  up  of  such  verbal  acquisitions.  It 
costs  less  effort  in  this  early  stage  of  development  to  learn 
the  concrete  facts  of  history,  geography,  or  language,  than 
it  would  cost  at  a  later  date.  Hence  it  has  been  called 
the  "plastic  period."* 

In  training  the  memory  the  different  characteristics  of 
a  good  memory  should  be  kept  in  view.  These,  as  already 
pointed  out,  are  :  (i)  aptitude  in  applying  the  mind  to  a 
subject  and  acquiring  knowledge  ;  (2)  a  firm  grasp  of 
what  is  thus  learned,  or  tenacity  of  memory  ;  and  (3) 
readiness  in  recalling  and  making  use  of  what  has  been 
stored  up  in  the  mind.  To  this  some  would  add  a  fourth 
excellence,  viz.,  fidelity  or  accuracy  in  reproduction.  \     A 

*  Prof.  Bain  regards  the  period  of  maximum  plasticity  as  extending 
from  about  the  sixth  to  the  tenth  year.  ("Science  of  Education,"  p. 
186.) 

f  Quintilian  says,  "  Memoriae  duplex  virtus  :  facile  percipere  et 
fideliter  continere."  Dugald  Stewart  distinguishes  between  quickness, 
tenacity  and  readiness  ("  Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human 
Mind,"  chap,  vi,  §  2).  J.  Huber  adds  the  fourth  excellence,  fidelity 
("  Ueber  das  Gedachtniss").  Mr.  Quick  ha**p6Sff€«^C(tit  that  a  good 
memory  brings  "into  consciousness  what  is  wanted,  and  nothing  else'* 


^UNIVERSlfY] 


1 62       MENTAL  REPRODUCTION,— MEMORY. 

glance  at  these  suggests  that  there  are  two  main  divisions 
in  the  art  of  training  the  memory :  {a)  the  calling  forth  of 
the  pupil's  power  of  acquisition,  or  aptitude  in  storing  up 
knowledge  ;  (b)  the  practicing  him  in  recalling  what  he 
has  learned.  In  respect  of  each  part,  a  judicious  and 
effective  training  will  proceed  by  recognizing  the  natural 
conditions  of  retention  and  the  particular  stage  of  devel- 
opment reached.  Although  in  practice  these  run  on  to- 
gether, we  may,  to  a  certain  extent,  treat  them  as  separate 
processes. 

(a)  Exercise  in  Acquisition. — In  this  stage  the  first 
rule  to  be  attended  to  is  to  take  the  child  at  his  best. 
Committing  anything  to  memory  is  a  severe  demand  on 
the  brain  energies,  and  should  so  far  as  possible  be  rele- 
gated to  the  hours  of  greatest  vigor  and.  freshness.  The 
morning  is  the  right  time  for  learning.  Heavy  preparation 
work  in  the  evening,  especially  in  the  case  of  young  chil- 
dren, is  distinctly  injurious.  At  the  same  time,  the  prac- 
tice of  refreshing  the  impressions  of  the  day  by  going  over 
notes  of  lessons  has  undoubted  advantages;  and  many  a 
learner  has  testified  to  the  fact  that  rehearsing  a  lesson 
before  falling  asleep  is  an  aid  to  the  lively  reproduction  of 
it  on  the  morrow. 

The  next  rule  is  that  every  resource  should  be  used  to 
make  the  subjects  to  be  learned  as  interesting  as  possible. 
The  complaints  of  many  distinguished  men  about  the 
drudgery  of  school  learning  may  remind  us  how  easy  it 
is  to  overlook  this  condition.  A  large  number  of  boys 
have,  like  the  old  writer  Schuppius,  taken  heart  by  com- 
mitting things  to  memory  "in  spem  futurae  oblivionis."  * 
It  has  been  observed  by  an  eminent  living  teacher  that 
"  the  memory  of  the  young  is  very  good  if  they  care  for 
what  they  are  about."     In  order  to  secure  this  condition 

♦Quoted  by  Mr,  Quick  in  a  highly  interesting  lecture,  on  "The 
Teacher's  Use  of  the  Memory."    See  '*  Journal  of  Education,"  July, 

1884. 


EXERCISE  IN  ACQUISITION.  163 

we  must  consult  the  learner's  natural  tastes  to  some  extent, 
and  keep  in  view  what  Locke  calls  "  the  seasons  of  apti- 
tude and  inclination."  And  we  must  further  seek  to  de- 
velop an  interest  in  the  subjects  studied.  The  awaken- 
ing of  interest  consists  not  only  in  developing  the  intrin- 
sic attractiveness  of  subjects,  but  also  in  helping  the  child 
to  realize  the  uses  of  knowledge,  and  the  power  it  brings 
to  its  possessor.  Perhaps  one  of  the  chief  drawbacks  of 
school  as  compared  with  home  teaching  is  that  it  tends  to 
put  the  day's  lessons  so  completely  outside  the  circle  of 
home-interests  that  the  pupil  comes  to  look  on  the  knowl- 
edge gained  as  something  artificial  and  unreal.  Where, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  lessons  are  given  at  home  and 
under  the  supervision  of  an  intelligent  mother  or  father, 
the  attractions  of  learning  are  vastly  increased  by  the 
opportunities  opened  up  for  applying  it.*  The  parents 
should  always  co-operate  with  the  teacher  in  seeking  to 
work  against  this  tendency  to  divorce  knowledge  from  the 
real  interests  of  life.  To  a  child  toiling  with  the  difficul- 
ties of  French  or  German,  a  half-hour's  easy  chat  in  that 
language  with  the  father  or  mother  will  bring  a  stimulus 
the  school-master  can  never  provide.  The  mere  talking 
over  the  day's  lesson  with  a  sympathetic  parent  is  a  pow- 
erful encouragement.  Dr.  Johnson  tells  us  that  when  a 
child  he  used,  after  acquiring  a  new  piece  of  knowledge, 
to  run  and  tell  it  to  an  old  woman  of  whom  he  was  fond, 
and  that  this  practice  helped  to  imprint  what  he  learned  on 
his  memory. 

Again,  in  training  the  memory  a  judicious  use  must  be 
made  of  the  principle  of  repetition.  This  condition  should 
be  observed  in  giving  the  instruction.  Thus,  when  the 
teacher  writes  the  chief  points  of  an  oral  lesson  on  the 

*  Miss  Edgeworth  emphasizes  the  importance  of  cultivating  the 
memory  and  the  inventive  faculty  together.  "  Children  who  invent  ex- 
ercise their  memory  with  pleasure  from  the  immediate  sense  of  utility 
and  success."     "  Practical  Education,"  vol.  iii,  p.  loi. 

12 


164       MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY, 

blackboard  he  introduces  a  new  sense-medium,  the  eye, 
and  so  tends  to  fix  the  subject  by  the  force  of  repetition. 
Revision  lessons,  going  over  the  work  of  the  term,  are  an- 
other illustration  of  the  value  of  repetition.  In  addition 
to  this,  the  pupils  should  be  encouraged  to  ruminate  on 
the  subject-matter  of  the  lesson  after  it  is  over,  to  write 
out  an  epitome  of  it,  and  to  talk  it  over.  And  here  again 
the  parent  may  supplement  the  work  of  the  teacher.  The 
advantage  of  writing  out  and  giving  an  oral  account  of 
what  has  been  learned,  soon  afterward,  is  that  it  requires  a 
steady  concentration  of  the  thoughts  on  the  subject.  Any 
system  of  instruction  that  does  not  allow  adequate  time 
for  this  mental  brooding  over  new  acquisitions  is  con- 
demned on  that  account.  All  hurry  in  getting  over  the 
ground  is  fatal  to  permanent  recollections.  Seneca  ob- 
serves :  "  Dediscit  animus  sero  quod  didicit  diu."^^ 

Lastly,  the  educator  should  make  ample  use  of  the 
laws  of  association.  This  includes  two  things  :  (i)  the 
connecting  of  the  several  parts  of  the  new  matter  in  the 
best  possible  way  one  with  another;  and  (2)  the  connect- 
ing of  the  new  acquisition  with  the  old.  Thus,  in  teach- 
ing a  geographical  fact,  say  the  position  of  Liverpool,  its 
relations  to  other  places,  as  America,  Manchester,  etc., 
should  be  made  clear.  Similarly,  in  narrating  an  historical 
event  its  several  actions  and  incidents  should  be  clearly 
set  forth  in  their  order  of  time,  also  the  antecedent  and 
attendant  circumstances  fitted  to  throw  light  on  the  causes 
of  the  event  be  added.  There  should,  moreover,  be  a 
certain  order  of  procedure,  the  more  important  events 
being  used  as  a  central  thread  about  which  the  subordi- 
nate events  are  entwined.  In  this  way  the  materials  are 
arranged,  and  the  retention  greatly  promoted. 

Again,  in  connecting  the  new  with  the  old,  all  available 
aid  should  be  derived  from  tracing  similarities  under  the 
form  of  analogies,  e.  g.,  between  the  Norman  invasion  of 
England  and  the  earlier  invasions.     As  supplementary  to 


LEARNING  BY  HEART.  165 

this,  the  teacher  should  bring  out  the  points  of  difference 
and  contrast  between  the  events,  e.  g.,  between  the  effects 
of  the  Saxon  and  Norman  invasions  on  the  population  of 
the  island.  We  thus  see  that  the  most  effectual  way  of 
arranging  the  materials  for  purposes  of  retention  is  pre- 
cisely that  which  best  subserves  the  understanding  of  the 
whole.* 

Learning  by  Heart. — Among  the  most  constant  of 
the  associations  resorted  to  by  the  teacher  are  the  verbal 
ones.  Teaching  necessarily  proceeds  by  the  medium  of 
language.  And  the  pupil  helps  to  remember  what  he 
learns  by  the  aid  of  words.  The  full  use  of  these  verbal 
associations  is  seen  in  what  is  known  as  learning  by  heart. 
This  implies  that  the  learner  firmly  retains  a  piece  of 
knowledge  in  a  definite  verbal  form,  which  form  serves  as 
a  support  of  the  ideas  acquired  as  well  as  a  medium  for 
reproducing  these.  The  learning  of  the  multiplication- 
table,  grammatical  rules,  and  poetry  illustrates  the  pro- 
cess. 

There  is  an  obvious  danger  in  this  mode  of  learning ; 
it  tends  to  a  mechanical  habit  of  committing  words  and 
not  ideas  to  memory.  That  is  to  say,  the  mind  of  the 
learner  uses  the  verbal  series  not  simply  as  a  support  of, 
but  as  a  substitute  for,  the  sequence  of  ideas.  This  par- 
rot-like mode  of  learning  is  particularly  insidious,  because 
it  appears  to  save  the  learner,  and  certainly  saves  the 
teacher,  a  good  deal  of  trouble.  The  verbal  memory  is 
strong  in  children,  and  they  are  prone  to  lean  on  it  to  ex- 
cess ;  and  it  is  plainly  a  much  simpler  problem  for  the 
teacher  to  test  whether  a  child  has  retained  the  verbal 
form  than  whether  he  has  grasped  the  ideal  substance. 
Owing  to  these  and  other  reasons,  such  as  the  greater 
value  attached  to  the  verbal  memory  when  books  were 

*  Miss  Edgeworth  remarks  that  the  order  of  time  is  the  first  and 
easiest  principle  of  association.  Arrangement  according  to  logical 
connection  will  follow  later.     "  Practical  Education,"  vol.  iii,  p.  92. 


1 66      MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

scarce,  the  older  method  of  teaching  was  characterized  by 
the  predominance  of  merely  verbal  acquisition.  And  the 
chief  direction  of  modern  educational  reform  has  been  the 
substitution  of  a  real  knowledge  of  things  for  a  mere 
knowledge  of  words.  Hence  the  practice  of  learning  by 
heart  has  fallen  into  disfavor.  "Learning  by  heart,"  says 
Locke,  "...  I  know  not  what  it  serves  for  but  to  mis- 
spend their  time  and  pains,  and  give  them  a  disgust  and 
aversion  to  their  books.""  Pope  satirizes  the  practice  in 
the  "  Dunciad  "  : 

"  Since  man  from  beast  by  words  is  known, 
Words  are  man's  province,  words  we  teach  alone." 

It  is  probable  that  this  revolt  from  the  tyranny  of 
words  has  led  educationists  to  undervalue  the  real  service 
of  language  in  learning.  In  many  cases  the  embodiment 
of  knowledge  in  a  precise  verbal  form  is  necessary,  e.  g., 
in  arithmetical  and  other  formulae,  the  rules  of  grammar, 
the  laws  of  science.*  And  in  every  case  the  verbal  mem- 
ory should  be  allowed  a  certain  play.  As  was  pointed 
out  above,  the  men  who  have  been  most  remarkable  for 
learning  have  been  greatly  helped  by  their  verbal  memory. 
And  in  early  life,  when  the  aptitude  of  committing  words 
to  memory  is  so  strong,  it  would  be  folly  to  make  no  use 
of  it  in  education.  What  the  teacher  has  to  take  care  of 
is,  that  he  does  not  use  the  child's  verbal  memory  to  urge 
him  on  to  learn  what  he  can  not  yet  understand ;  that  the 
ideas  are  firmly  retained  along  with  the  words,  and  that 
the  pupil  is  not  slavishly  dependent  on  them,  and  can  put 
his  knowledge  into  other  forms  when  required. 

It  might  be  well  to  distinguish  between  learning  by 
heart  and  learning  by  rote^  confining  the  former  to  the 
legitimate  practice  of  learning  by  help  of  a  definite  verbal 
form,  and  reserving  the  latter  for  the  pernicious  practice 

*  This  has  been  well  illustrated  by  Mr.  Fitch.    "  Lectures  on  Teach- 
ing," p.  131,  and  following. 


ART  OF  MNEMONICS.  167 

of  learning  words  instead  of  the  facts  and  truths  they 
represent.  Thus,  in  committing  a  poem  to  memory,  it  is 
important  to  distinguish  an  accurate  reproduction  of  the 
whole  poem,  words  and  ideas,  from  the  parrot-like  repro- 
duction of  the  mere  sounds.  It  is  evident  that  the  former 
is  by  far  the  more  interesting  exercise.  And  it  may  be 
added  that  in  reality  it  is  the  easier  too.  Where  the  child 
has  only  the  verbal  associations  to  help  him,  he  is  much 
more  likely  to  forget  than  when  he  grasps  the  meaning 
too,  and  so  has  as  an  additional  aid  to  recollection  in  the 
links  of  connection  that  join  together  the  successive  ideas 
— a  fact  that  might  easily  be  tested  by  giving  a  child  first 
a  poem  dealing  with  a  very  abstruse  subject  and  quite 
above  his  comprehension,  and  afterward  a  simple  and 
attractive  ballad.* 

Art  of  Mnemonics. — In  ancient  times  great  impor- 
tance was  attached  to  certain  devices  for  aiding  memory 
and  shortening  its  work,  which  devices  have  been  known 
as  artificial  memory,  memoria  technica^  and  the  art  of 
mnemonics.  Thus,  among  the  Greek  and  Roman  teachers 
of  oratory,  much  emphasis  was  laid  on  a  topical  memory, 
i.  e.,  the  connecting  of  the  several  heads  of  a  discourse 
with  different  divisions  of  a  house  or  other  building,  so  as 
to  recover  them  by  the  aid  of  visual  pictures  of  these 
places.  And  in  modern  times  attempts  have  been  made 
to  shorten  the  process  of  learning,  dates,  etc.,  by  mne- 
monic word-forms,  and  lines.  This  idea  of  relieving 
memory  owed  much  of  its  apparent  importance  to  the 
theory  that  the  main  business  of  learning  is  to  commit 
words  to  memory.  When  this  theory  obtained,  learning 
was  necessarily  a  dry  occupation,  and  the  pupil's  mind 
was   wearied   by   excessive    tasks    in   verbal    acquisition. 

*  Strictly  speaking,  what  is  called  learning  by  rote  derives  some  as- 
sistance from  the  associations  of  the  ideas.  As  Jean  Paul  Richter 
dryly  observes,  word-memory,  as  distinct  from  thing-memory,  would  be 
best  tested  by  committing  to  memory  a  sheet  of  Hottentot  names. 


1 68      MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY. 

Hence  the  eagerness  to  find  devices  for  shortening  the 
toil.  Now,  that  this  theory  is  abandoned,  less  importance 
is  attached  to  a  mnemonic  art.  When  things  are  taught 
only  in  so  far  as  they  can  be  understood,  it  is  held  that 
the  relations  of  place,  time,  cause  and  effect,  etc.,  between 
the  facts  should  form  the  main  basis  of  acquisition.  In 
other  words,  the  more  things  are  connected  in  their 
natural  relations,  the  less  will  be  the  task  imposed  on  the 
verbal  memory.* 

Although  there  are  no  definite  rules  for  aiding  the 
memory  which  are  valid  in  all  cases,  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  a  skillful  management  of  the  memory.  This  will  in- 
clude the  formation  of  habits,  not  only  of  concentration 
and  repetition,  but  of  selecting  and  grouping  or  arranging. 
Memory-labor  is  greatly  economized  by  detecting  what  is 
important  and  overlooking  what  is  unimportant.  When 
Simondes  offered  to  teach  Themistocles  the  art  of  mem- 
ory, the  latter  answered,  "  Rather  teach  me  the  art  of 
forgetting."  Children  are  apt  to  overload  their  minds 
with  useless  matter,  and  they  should  be  exercised  in  selec- 
tion. The  labor  of  memory  is  lightened,  too,  by  finding 
appropriate  "  pegs  "  on  which  to  hang  new  acquisitions. 
Among  these  pegs  must  be  reckoned  the  places  in  which 
information  can  be  found.  To  associate  book-knowledge 
with  particular  books,  and  places  in  these,  other  kinds  of 
knowledge,  with  particular  persons  (experts),  is  a  great 
saving  of  memory-labor.  This  has  been  called  the  index- 
memory. 

Learners  will  unconsciously  further  the  work  of  learn- 
ing by  all  manner  of  devices  that  can  not  readily  be  re- 
duced to  a  definite  formula.     Thus,  one  child  in  learning 

*  For  an  account  of  the  different  systems  of  mnemonics,  see  article 
•*  Mnemonics,"  "  Encyclopcedia  Britannica,"  and  article  "  Memory,"  in 
"  Chambers's  Encyclopaedia  "  ;  and  for  a  critical  inquiry  into  the  value 
of  artificial  aids  to  memory,  see  Dugald  Stewart's  "Elements  of  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,"  chap,  vi,  §  7. 


EXERCISE  IN  RECALLING.  169 

that  the  Tudors  are  followed  by  the  Stuarts  will  notice 
the  odd  sequence,  T.  S.  ;  and  by  so  doing  will  retain  the 
succession  more  easily.  In  learning  a  foreign  language, 
the  pupil  will  often  shorten  the  labor  by  discovering  slight 
and  fanciful  resemblances  between  the  new  vocables  and 
familiar  words  in  his  mother-tongue.  Such  devices  are 
perfectly  allowable  so  long  as  the  subject-matter  is  con- 
nected in  an  arbitrary  way  only,  as  in  the  case  of  names 
of  sovereigns,  chief  towns,  etc.,  lists  of  irregular  verbs, 
and  so  forth.  They  only  become  mischievous  when  they 
draw  off  the  attention  from  natural  and  logical  relations. 
Where  the  matter  committed  to  memory  is  such  as  re- 
quires to  be  learned  in  a  definite  verbal  form,  the  use  of 
alliteration  and  verse-form,  as  in  the  well-known  mne- 
monic lines  in  grammar,  logic,  etc.,  is  a  valuable  aid  to 
the  memory. 

The  aids  thus  resorted  to  will  differ  in  the  case  of  dif- 
ferent children.  Some  children  will  remember  ideas 
better  by  the  aid  of  visual  pictures,  others  better  by 
series  of  sound-representations.  The  young  are  wont  to 
help  themselves  out  of  the  difficulty  of  retaining  what  is 
difficult,  e.  g.,  letters,  numbers,  dates,  by  the  aid  of  visual 
forms  (geometrical  schemes,  and  so  on).  And  teachers 
would  do  well  to  find  out  these  spontaneous  tendencies 
of  children's  minds,  and  to  aid  them  in  the  process  of 
economizing  intellectual  labor.^^ 

(b)  Exercise  in  Recalling". — In  addition  to  exercis- 
ing the  child  in  committing  to  memory,  the  teacher  has 
to  exercise  him  in  reproducing  what  has  been  learned.  He 
does  this  for  a  variety  of  reasons.  First  of  all,  he  requires 
to  test  the  child's  power  of  retention  and  the  tenacity  of 
his  memory.  Again,  he  continually  needs  to  recall  past 
acquisitions  in  order  to  make  sure  of  taking  the  pupil  on 
to  an  intelligent  grasp  of  new  ones.  In  expounding  any 
subject,  the  elements  learned  at  the  outset  are  required 
from  time  to  time  as  the  pupil   advances  to  the  higher 


i;o      MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY, 

stages.  And  here  the  child  should  be  required  to  repro- 
duce for  himself.  Lastly,  it  is  desirable  to  examine  chil- 
dren in  a  wider  and  more  searching  way  as  to  what  they 
have  learned,  with  a  view  to  make  them  ready  in  looking 
up  facts  when  they  are  wanted,  finding  illustrations  of 
principles,  and  so  forth.  Such  exercises  tend  to  develop 
readiness  in  reproduction,  a  quality  hardly  less  valuable 
than  retention  ;  for,  as  Locke  observes,  "  the  dull  man  who 
loses  the  opportunity  while  he  is  seeking  in  his  mind  for 
those  ideas  that  should  serve  his  turn,  is  not  much  more 
happy  in  his  knowledge  than  one  that  is  perfectly  ignorant." 

This  part  of  the  training  of  the  memory  should  be  car- 
ried out  partly  by  the  parents  and  partly  by  the  school- 
teacher. The  home  can  be  made  the  field  of  such  exer- 
cise by  encouraging  the  child  in  recalling  what  he  has 
momentarily  forgotten,  in  recounting  his  experiences,  in 
giving  a  sketch  of  his  day's  lessons,  and  so  forth,  and 
thus  practicing  him  in  the  voluntary  command  of  his  ac- 
quisitions, in  clearness  and  accuracy  of  description,  and 
in  an  orderly  method  of  arranging  his  materials.  But  it 
is  to  the  teacher  that  we  must  look  for  the  systematic  ex- 
ercise of  the  memory  in  this  respect.  Skill  in  putting 
questions  and  in  examining  is  one  chief  qualification  of  a 
good  educator.  How  to  separate  real  from  merely  verbal 
knowledge,  and  thorough  knowledge  from  a  superficial 
smattering ;  how  to  eliminate  the  effects  of  hasty  "  cram  " 
and  to  make  sure  of  a  firm,  tenacious  grasp  of  knowledge  ; 
how  to  test  the  valuable  quality  of  promptness  in  repro- 
duction, without  discouraging  those  who  are  tenacious 
though  slow — these  are  among  the  difiicult  problems  of  the 
modern  teacher  ^^  and  examiner. 

Subjects  which  exercise  the  Memory.  —  All 
branches  of  study  exercise  the  memory  in  some  measure. 
The  student  of  the  higher  mathematics  remembers  the 
principles  and  the  demonstrations  of  his  science,  and  this 
largely  by  the  aid  of  language  or  other  visual  symbols. 


EDUCATIONAL    VALUE  OF  MEMORY.       171 

But  when  we  talk  of  a  subject  exercising  the  memory  we 
mean  more  (or  less)  than  this.  We  refer  to  those  subjects 
which  have  to  do  mainly  with  the  particular,  and  the  con- 
crete, and  which  appeal  but  little  to  the  understanding. 
Such  subjects  are  natural  science,  in  its  simpler  or  de- 
scriptive phase,  geography,  history,  language,  and  the 
lighter  departments  of  literature.  Arithmetic,  though  now 
recognized  as  a  subject  which  necessarily  calls  forth  the 
child's  powers  of  generalizing  and  reasoning,  also  makes 
heavy  demands  on  the  verbal  memory. 

As  was  pointed  out  above,  exercise  tends  to  improve 
the  capacity  of  learning  in  particular  directions  rather 
than  as  a  whole.  A  pupil  who  has  exercised  his  memory 
mainly  in  the  study  of  literature,  though  he  will  have 
greatly  strengthened  it  in  the  further  acquisition  of  this 
kind  of  knowledge,  will  not  have  materially  added  to  his 
capacity  of  learning  other  subjects,  as  natural  science. 

It  would  seem  to  follow  from  this  that  a  full  and  com- 
plete exercise  of  memory  involves  the  taking  up  of  a 
number  of  subjects,  as  literature,  science,  and  so  on.  A 
certain  range  and  variety  of  subjects  is  thus  good  for 
the  learner.  At  the  same  time,  a  considerable  number 
of  disconnected  subjects  carried  on  together  is  preju- 
dicial to  the  memory,  by  preventing  that  firm  joining  to- 
gether of  elements  into  a  compact  whole  which  is  the 
condition  of  the  best  kind  of  memory.  "Aiunt,"  writes 
Pliny,  "multum  legendum  esse,  non  multa."  Locke  held 
that  the  true  secret  of  learning  is  to  learn  one  thing  at  a 
time  ;  and  so  admirable  a  scholar  as  Lessing  tells  us  he 
followed  this  rule  in  his  self-education.  And  it  is  very 
doubtful  whether  our  modern  fashion  of  introducing  so 
many  new  subjects  at  the  same  time  is  the  most  efficient 
method  of  training  the  memory. 

Educational  Value  of  Memory. — The  value  set 
on  the  training  of  the  memory  at  different  times  and  by 
different  writers  has  been  a  very  different  one.     The  old 


i;2      MENTAL  REPRODUCTION.— MEMORY, 

idea  was  to  identify  memory  and  knowledge.  "  Tantum 
scimus  quantum  memoria  tenemus."  As  already  ob- 
served, to  know  a  thing  implies  that  an  impression  is  re- 
tained. Knowledge  is  the  more  or  less  permanent  after- 
result  of  a  past  process  of  learning  or  coming  to  know. 
This  is  apparent  to  all.  The  difficulty  begins  when  we 
ask  what  is  the  relation  of  memory  to  the  higher  faculties 
of  judgment,  imagination,  etc.,  and  to  that  fuller  knowl- 
edge which  we  call  understanding.  That  a  certain  devel- 
opment of  the  memory  is  necessary  to  the  due  discharge 
of  the  higher  intellectual  functions  follows  from  the  laws 
of  mental  development,  and  will  be  fully  illustrated  by- 
and-by.  Unless  the  mind  is  stored  with  a  good  stock  of 
concrete  impressions  there  will  be  no  materials  for  the 
imaginative  or  inventive  faculty  to  combine,  or  for  the  un- 
derstanding to  reduce  to  general  concepts.  As  Kant 
observes,  "The  understanding  has  as  its  chief  auxiliary 
the  faculty  of  reproduction."  Every  great  writer  and  dis- 
coverer has  taken  pains  to  cultivate  his  memory.* 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  matter  of  common  testimony 
that  the  cultivation  of  memory  to  a  high  point  may  be 
hurtful  to  these  higher  faculties ;  "  beaucoup  de  memoire, 
peu  de  jugement,"  says  the  French  proverb.  Similarly, 
Pope  observes : 

"  Thus  in  the  soul  while  memory  prevails, 
The  solid  power  of  understanding  fails." 

This  points  to  a  real  danger  in  exercising  the  memory. 
Its  importance  has  been,  and  still  is  perhaps,  greatly  over- 
rated. This  was  the  characteristic  fault  of  the  old  method 
of  loading  children's  minds  with  a  mass  of  ill-digested 
learning.!     The  precise  value  of  the  memory  in  relation 

*  Dugald  Stewart  says  he  can  scarcely  recollect  one  man  of  genius 
who  had  not  *'  more  than  an  ordinary  share  "  of  retentive  power. 

f  Miss  Edgeworth  gives  an  interesting  explanation  of  the  reasons 
why  so  much  importance  was  attached  to  memory  up  to  recent  times. 
"  Practical  Education,"  vol.  iii,  p.  57,  etc. 


EDUCATIONAL    VALUE  OF  MEMORY.       173 

to  the  understanding  of  facts  and  the  practical  applica- 
tions of  knowledge  should  never  be  lost  sight  of.  In 
training  the  memory,  the  teacher  should  exercise  the  judg- 
ment at  the  same  time  in  the  selection  of  what  is  really 
important.  In  this  way  overloading  the  mind  will  be 
avoided,  and  the  higher  faculty  will  be  improved.  Further, 
as  Dugald  Stewart  observes  in  his  remarks  on  what  he 
calls  a  "  philosophical  memory,"  the  learner,  in  commit- 
ting new  materials  to  memory,  should  be  exercised  in  that 
orderly  arrangement  of  acquisitions,  and  that  classification 
of  facts  under  their  proper  heads,  which  is  not  only  a  great 
saving  to  the  memory,  but  secures  in  the  very  process  of 
storing  up  materials  of  knowledge  a  certain  amount  of 
exercise  of  the  understanding  itself. 

APPENDIX. 

On  the  laws  of  memory  and  on  its  culture  the  reader  will  do  well  to 
consult  Dugald  Stewart,  "  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind;"  parti, 
chap,  vi  ;  Dr.  Carpenter,  "  Mental  Physiology,"  book  ii,  chap,  x  ;  and 
Prof.  J.  Huber,  "  Ueber  das  Gedachtniss."  The  early  development  of 
the  faculty  is  traced  by  M.  Perez,  "  The  First  Three  Years  of  Child- 
hood," chaps,  viii  and  ix,  and  "  L'Enfant  de  trois  i  sept  ans,"  chaps,  i 
and  ii. 

The  educational  management  of  the  memory  is  dealt  with  among 
others  by  Locke,  "  Some  Thoughts  on  Education,"  especially  sec.  176  ; 
Miss  Edgeworth,  "  Essays  on  Practical  Education,"  vol.  ii,  chap  xxi ; 
Mdme.  Necker,  "  L'Education,"  livre  vi,  chap,  vii  ;  Beneke  ("  Erzieh. 
und  Unterrichtslehre,"  vol.  i,  sects.  20-22);  Waitz,  "Allgem.  Poeda- 
gogik,"  2d  part,  3d  sec.  There  are  some  good  remarks  on  the  cultiva- 
tion of  memory  in  Kant's  Essay,  "  Ueber  Psedagogik."  Among  recent 
writers  reference  may  be  made  to  J.  G.  Fitch,  "  Lectures  on  Teach- 
ing," chap.  V  ;  E.  Thring,  "  Theory  and  Practice  of  Teaching,"  part  ii, 
chap,  vii  ;  and  G.  Compayre,  "Cours  de  Pedagogic,"  le^on  vi.  The 
process  of  learning  by  heart  is  fully  dealt  with  by  Dr.  J.  Hoppe,  "  Das 
Auswendiglernen  und  Auswendighersagen." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CONSTRUCTIVE   IMAGINATION. 

Reproductive  and  Constructive  Imagination. — 

In  the  act  of  reproduction  the  mind  pictures  objects  and 
events  by  means  of  what  are  called  images  ;  and  thus  re- 
production is  a  form  of  imagination.  But  what  is  popu- 
larly known  as  imagination  implies  more  than  this.  When 
we  imagine  an  unfamiliar  coming  event,  or  a  place  which 
is  described  to  us,  the  images  in  our  minds  are  not  exact 
copies  of  past  impressions.  The  results  of  our  past  expe- 
rience, or  the  contents  of  memory,  are  being  in  some  way 
modified,  transformed,  and  recombined.  Hence  this  form 
of  imagination  has  been  marked  off  as  productive  imagi- 
nation. 

This  process  of  producing  new  images  and  groups  of 
images  out  of  old  materials  appears  in  a  number  of  differ- 
ent forms.  In  its  lower  developments  it  is  a  comparatively 
passive  process,  in  which  the  will  takes  no  part,  and  the 
movements  of  which  are  capricious  and  swayed  by  feeling. 
The  childish  fancy  illustrates  this  lower  variety.  The 
higher  form  is  an  active  process,  in  which  the  will  directs 
the  several  steps  to  a  definite  result.  This  more  perfect 
form  of  imaginative  activity  is  known  as  constructive  im- 
agination. 

The  Constructive  Process. — This  process  of  con- 
struction may  be  said  roughly  to  fall  into  two  stages,  (a) 
Of  these  the  first  is  the  revival  of  images  of  past  objects, 


THE  CONSTRUCTIVE  PROCESS.  175 

scenes,  etc.,  according  to  the  laws  of  association.  Thus,  a 
child,  in  building  up  an  idea  of  Africa,  of  the  Spanish 
Armada,  and  so  on,  necessarily  sets  out  with  facts  of  his 
own  experience  recalled  by  memory.  It  is  the  same  with 
his  more  fanciful  creations  of  fairy-land  and  its  inhabit- 
ants. 

-  It  follows  that  the  excellence  of  the  constructive  pro- 
cess is,  in  every  case,  limited  by  the  strength  and  clearness 
of  the  reproductive  faculty.  Unless  memory  restore  the 
impressions  of  past  experience  we  can  not  picture  a  new- 
scene  or  a  new  event.  Thus,  unless  a  child  recalls,  with 
some  measure  of  distinctness,  one  or  more  of  the  blocks 
of  ice  which  he  has  actually  seen,  he  can  not  imagine  an 
iceberg  or  a  glacier.  The  more  readily  the  reproductive 
faculty  supplies  the  mind  with  elements,  the  better  the 
result  is  likely  to  be. 

(b)  The  images  of  memory  being  thus  recalled  by  the 
forces  of  suggestion,  they  are  worked  up  as  materials  into 
a  new  imaginative  product.  This  is  the  formative  or  con- 
structive act  proper.  The  process  resembles  that  of  build- 
ing a  new  physical  structure  out  of  old  materials.  These 
have  to  be  broken  up,  what  is  useless  rejected,  what  is 
useful  and  congruous  with  the  rest  selected,  and  the  whole 
put  together  in  an  orderly  way  so  as  to  build  up  a  new 
structure. 

This  part  of  the  process  is  the  work  of  the  will,  guided 
by  a  clear  representation  of  the  result  aimed  at,  and  by  a 
steady  judgment  as  to  what  is  fitting  for  the  purpose  in 
hand.  And  it  is  on  the  quality  of  this  guiding  sense  of 
fitness  that  the  excellence  of  the  result  mainly  depends. 
When  this  is  wanting,  the  materials  supplied  by  reproduc- 
tion remain  in  a  disorderly  mass,  and  confuse  the  mind. 
And  the  more  completely  the  will,  directed  by  the  sense 
of  what  is  fitting,  masters  the  chaos,  the  more  perfect  the 
final  formation.  According  as  a  poet,  for  example,  has  a 
clear  and  discriminating,  or  a  dull  and  obtuse,  sense  of 


i;6  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION. 

what  is  beautiful,  harmonious,  etc.,  his  constructive  work 
will  be  well  or  ill  performed. 

This  constructive  activity  assumes  a  lower  and  a 
higher  phase.  In  the  case  of  a  child  listening  to  a  story- 
it  is  directed  from  without,  and  subserves  the  receptioti 
of  knowledge.  In  the  case  of  a  poet  creating  a  new 
scene  or  action  it  is  directed  from  within,  and  subserves 
ongi?iatton. 

Various  Forms  of  Construction. — The  essential 
process  in  imagination,  viz.,  construction,  enters  into  a 
variety  of  mental  operations.  These  may  be  grouped 
under  three  main  heads  :  (i)  construction  as  subserving 
knowledge  about  things ;  (2)  practical  construction  as 
aiding  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  how  to  do  things, 
or  to  adapt  means  to  ends  ;  and  (3)  construction  as  satis- 
fying the  emotions.  The  first  may  be  called  the  intellect- 
ual imagination  ;  the  second,  the  practical  imagination 
or  invention ;  and  the  third,  the  aesthetic  or  poetic  imagi- 
nation. 

(A)  Intellectual  Imagination. — Every  extension  of 
knowledge  beyond  the  bounds  of  personal  experience 
involves  some  degree  of  imaginative  activity.  This  is  seen 
alike  in  the  acquisition  of  new  knowledge  from  others  re- 
specting things,  places,  and  events,  and  also  in  the  inde- 
pendent discovery  of  new  facts  by  anticipation.  The  first 
is  the  lower  or  receptive  form  of  imagination,  the  second 
the  higher  and  more  originative. 

(i)  Imagination  and  Acquisition. — The  process  of 
recalling,  selecting,  and  regrouping  the  traces  of  personal 
experience  is  illustrated  in  every  case  of  acquisition. 
What  is  ordinarily  called  "  learning,"  whether  by  oral 
communication  or  by  books,  is  not  simply  an  exercise  of 
memory  ;  it  involves  an  exercise  of  the  imagination  as 
well.  In  order  that  the  meaning  of  the  words  heard  or 
read  may  be  realized,  it  is  necessary  to  form  distinct  men- 
tal images  of  the  objects  described  or  the  events  narrated. 


REDUCING    THE  ABSTRACT.  177 

Thus,  in  following  a  description  of  a  desert,  the  child  be- 
gins with  familiar  experiences  called  up  by  the  words 
''plain,"  ''sand,"  and  so  on.  By  modifying  the  images 
thus  reproduced  by  memory  he  gradually  builds  up  the 
required  new  image. 

It  may  be  noted  that  here  as  elsewhere  knowledge 
consists  in  discriminating  and  assimilating.  The  child 
has  to  assimilate  what  is  told  him  in  so  far  as  it  is  like  his 
past  observations,  and  at  the  same  time  to  note  how  the 
new  scene  differs  from  the  old  ones.  The  formation  of  a 
distinct  and  accurate  image  will  greatly  depend  on  the 
degree  of  perfection  attained  in  this  part  of  the  process. 
In  following  a  description  children  are  apt  to  import  too 
much  into  their  mental  picture,  taking  up  the  accidental 
associations  with  which  their  individual  experience  has  in- 
vested the  words  used.  And  by  so  doing  they  do  not 
sufficiently  distinguish  between  the  new  and  the  old. 
That  is  to  say,  the  process  of  selection  is  incomplete. 

On  the  success  of  this  imaginative  effort  depends  to 
an  important  extent  what  is  known  as  the  understanding  of 
the  description.  If,  for  example,  the  mind  of  a  child,  in 
following  a  description  of  an  iceberg,  does  not  distinctly 
realize  its  magnitude,  he  will  not  be  prepared  to  under- 
stand the  dangers  arising  to  ships  from  such  a  floating 
mass.  Here  we  see  the  close  relation  between  clear  imagi- 
nation and  clear  thinking — a  relation  to  be  spoken  of  again 
by-and-by. 

Reducing  the  Abstract  to  the  Concrete. — This 
imaginative  realization  of  an  object  or  process  by  the  aid 
of  descriptive  terms  is  exceedingly  difficult.  Language 
is  in  its  nature  general  and  abstract.  Hence  all  verbal 
description  involves  a  gradual  process  of  reducing  lifeless 
generalities  to  a  living  concrete  form.  This  is  effected 
by  adding  to  the  general  name  a  number  of  qualifying 
terms,  each  of  which  helps  to  mark  off  the  individual 
thing  better  from  other  things.     Thus  the  teacher,  in  de- 


178  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION, 

scribing  a  desert,  probably  begins  by  some  general  term, 
as  a  big  place,  and  gradually  makes  this  definite  and  con- 
crete by  adding  limiting  or  qualifying  epithets,  such  as 
fiat,  bare,  and  so  forth.  In  like  manner,  in  describing  a 
king  or  a  statesman,  he  progressively  individualizes  the 
person  by  enumerating  his  several  physical  and  mental 
quaUties,  such  as  tall,  handsome,  wise,  and  so  forth.  The 
process  of  realizing  the  description  turns  on  the  combina- 
tion of  those  several  qualities  into  a  concrete  object. 
The  scientific  description  of  a  new  animal  or  plant  by 
means  of  a  highly  technical  terminology  illustrates  the 
difficulties  of  this  process  of  "  concreting  the  abstract  "  in 
a  yet  more  marked  manner. 

(2)  Imagination  and  Discovery.— The  discovery 
of  new  facts  is  largely  a  matter  of  careful  observation  and 
patient  reasoning  from  ascertained  facts  and  truths.  Yet 
imagination  materially  assists  in  the  process.  The  inquir- 
ing, searching  mind  is  always  passing  beyond  the  known 
to  the  unknown  in  the  form  of  conjecturings.  To  guess  a 
fact,  whether  it  be  a  fact  of  the  world  around  us  or  some- 
thing known  to  another,  involves  the  bringing  together  of 
elements  of  previous  knowledge,  combining  these  in  cer- 
tain ways,  and  so  feeling  our  way  by  a  series  of  tentatives 
to  the  particular  combination  required.  The  power  of 
thus  divining  what  is  hidden  by  the  activity  of  imagina- 
tion is  variously  known  as  insight  into  things  and  invent- 
iveness. The  child  shows  the  germ  of  this  capability 
when  picturing  to  himself  the  make  of  his  toys,  the  mech- 
anism of  the  clock  or  the  piano,  the  way  in  which  plants 
nourish  themselves  and  grow,  and  so  on.  The  scientific 
discoverer  shows  it  in  a  higher  form  in  inventing  hypoth- 
eses for  the  explanation  of  facts,  and  in  imagining  the  as 
yet  unobserved  results  of  his  reasoning  processes. 

(B)  Practical  Contrivance.— A  process  of  construc- 
tion enters  into  the  several  departments  of  practical  ac- 
quisition, such  as  learning  to  use  the  voice  in  speaking 


ESTHETIC  IMAGINATION.  179 

and  singing,  manual  contrivances  and  inventions,  both 
useful  and  mechanical  on  the  one  hand,  and  artistic  on 
the  other  hand.  In  these  various  exercises  of  practical  skill 
and  contrivance  the  child  is  called  on  to  recall  what  has 
been  already  learned,  and  to  separate  and  recombine  this 
in  conformity  with  new  circumstances  and  new  needs.  A 
good  deal  of  the  child's  mental  energy  finds  its  natural 
vent  in  the  direction  of  practical  contrivance  or  inven- 
tion. 

Much  of  this  new  motor  acquisition  is  guided  by 
others'  actions.  The  impulse  of  imitation  leads  a  child  to 
attempt  the  actions  which  he  sees  others  perform.  This 
is  seen  plainly  enough  in  his  play,  which  is  largely  a 
mimicry  of  the  serious  actions  of  adults.  This  is  the  re- 
ceptive side  of  practical  construction.  The  exercises  of 
the  school,  such  as  singing,  writing,  the  movements  of 
drilling,  and  so  forth,  illustrate  the  same  process.  The 
simpler  actions  of  the  voice,  fingers  or  limbs,  which  are  al- 
ready mastered,  are  combined  in  more  complex  operations 
under  the  guidance  of  an  external  model  or  copy. 

From  this  lower  and  receptive  form  of  practical  con- 
trivance we  must  mark  off  that  higher  and  more  original 
form  which  we  know  as  free  invention.  Children  find 
out  many  new  combinations  of  movement  for  themselves. 
The  mere  pleasure  of  doing  a  thing,  and  of  overcoming  a 
difficulty,  is  an  ample  reward  for  many  an  effort  in  practi- 
cal construction.  Such  activity  is,  moreover,  closely  con- 
nected with  the  impulse  of  curiosity,  the  desire  to  find 
out  about  things,  their  structure  and  less  obvious  qualities. 
In  this  way  practical  invention  assists  in  the  discovery  of 
facts  and  truths.  A  considerable  part  of  a  boy's  knowl- 
edge of  things  is  thus  gained  experimentally,  that  is  to  say, 
by  means  of  actively  dividing,  joining  together,  and  other- 
wise manipulating  objects. 

(C)  iEsthetic  Imagination.  —  Esthetic  or  poetic 
imagination  is  distinguished  from  the  other  forms  in  being 
13 


l8o  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION. 

subservient,  not  to  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  whether 
knowledge  about  things  or  knowledge  how  to  attain  re- 
sults, but  to  emotional  gratification  of  some  kind.  It  in- 
volves the  presence  of  some  feeling,  such  as  love  or  admira- 
tion for  the  beautiful,  and  it  is  this  feeling  which  consti- 
tutes its  stimulus  and  controlling  force.  This  is  illustrated 
in  the  wild  dreams  of  the  romantic  boy  or  girl.  The  pro- 
ductive work  of  imagination,  by  bringing  enjoyment  to 
the  mind  that  indulges  in  it,  strengthens  the  force  of  the 
stimulating  emotion,  and  so  tends  to  sustain  and  intensify 
itself. 

We  have  seen  that  imagination  is  able  (within  certain 
limits)  to  vary  or  transform  the  actual  events  of  our  ex- 
perience. Under  the  stimulus  of  an  emotion,  such  as  the 
love  of  the  marvelous  or  the  beautiful,  imagination  is  wont 
to  rise  above  the  ordinary  level  of  experience,  and  to  pict- 
ure objects,  circumstances,  and  events  surpassing  those 
of  every-day  life.  The  ideal  creations  of  the  imagination 
are  thus  apt  to  transcend  the  region  of  sober  fact.  The 
child's  fairy-land  and  the  world  of  romance,  which  the  poet 
and  the  novelist  create  for  us,  are  fairer,  more  wonderful 
and  exciting  than  the  domain  of  real  experience. 

Risks  of  Uncontrolled  Imagination. — The  indul- 
gence in  these  pleasures  of  imagination  is  legitimate  within 
certain  bounds.  But  it  is  attended  with  dangers,  moral 
and  intellectual.  A  youth  whose  mind  dwells  long  on  the 
wonders  of  romance  may  grow  discontented  with  his  actual 
surroundings,  and  so  morally  unfit  for  the  work  and  duties 
of  life.  Or,  what  comes  to  much  the  same,  he  learns  to 
satisfy  himself  with  these  imaginative  indulgences  ;  and 
so,  by  the  habitual  severance  of  feeling  from  will,  grad- 
ually becomes  incapable  of  deciding  and  acting,  a  result 
illustrated  by  the  history  of  Coleridge  and  other  "  dream- 
ers."    This  constitutes  a  serious  moral  danger. 

Again,  an  unlimited  indulgence  in  the  pleasures  of 
imagination  is  attended  with  grave  intellectual  dangers 


INTELLECTUAL   VALUE  OF  IMAGINATION.  i8i 

So  far  as  imaginative  activity  is  liberated  from  the  control 
of  will  and  judgment,  and  given  over  to  the  sway  of  emo- 
tion, it  hinders  the  attainment  of  truth.  In  extreme  cases 
it  leads  to  such  an  exaggerated  realization  of  the  objects 
imagined  as  to  give  rise  to  delusion,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
dreamy  child  and  the  novel-reader.^"  And,  when  it  falls 
short  of  this,  the  sway  of  feeling  gives  such  a  violence  and 
a  capriciousness  to  the  movements  of  imagination  as  to 
unfit  it  for  the  calm  and  steady  pursuit  of  truth.  Strong 
feeling  prevents  a  clear  discriminating  vision  of  facts,  and 
leads  to  vagueness  and  exaggeration.  Thus,  if  a  child  is 
powerfully.affected  by  the  pathetic  aspect  of  an  historical 
incident,  as  the  execution  of  Mary  of  Scotland,  his  mind, 
fascinated  by  this  aspect  of  the  event,  will  be  unfitted  to 
imagine  fully  and  impartially  all  the  essential  circumstances 
of  the  case,  so  as  to  arrive  at  a  complete  grasp  and  under- 
standing of  the  whole. 

Intellectual  Value  of  Imagination.— It  has  been 
customary  to  oppose  the  imagination  to  the  understanding. 
To  the  ordinary  practical  intelligence  the  imagination 
seems  a  useless  ornamental  appendage  to  the  mind,  serv- 
ing, like  the  peacock's  tail,  only  to  retard  its  progress. 
And  writers  on  the  human  mind  have  followed  the  popu- 
lar judgment  in  taking  a  low  view  of  the  intellectual  serv- 
ices of  this  faculty.  That  there  is  a  certain  measure  of 
truth  is  now  apparent.  Imagination,  when  given  over  to 
the  caprices  of  feeling,  is  antagonistic  to  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge.  At  the  same  time,  the  view  that  imagination 
is  uniformly  opposed  to  intellect  is  erroneous,  and  has  its 
roots  in  the  more  abstract  psychology  of  an  earlier  age, 
according  to  which  the  mind  is  a  bundle  of  disconnected 
faculties.  A  deeper  insight  into  the  organic  unity  of  mind, 
and  into  the  way  in  which  different  forms  of  mental  activ- 
ity combine  in  what  looks  like  a  simple  operation,  shows  us 
that  imagination,  instead  of  lying  wholly  outside  of  intel- 
lect, constitutes  an  integral  factor  in  intellectual  processes. 


l82  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION. 

Development  of  Imagination. — Just  as  memory 
only  begins  to  develop  when  the  faculty  of  perception  has 
been  exercised  up  to  a  certain  point,  so  imagination  only 
distinctly  appears  when  memory  has  attained  a  certain 
stage  of  perfection.  This  applies  alike  to  construction  as 
concerned  with  objects  and  with  actions.  The  child  must 
be  able  to  recall  distinctly  a  number  of  previous  sense- 
experiences  before  he  can  build  up  new  pictures  of  what 
is  going  to  happen,  or  strike  out  new  combinations  of 
movement. 

Germ  of  Imagination. — In  a  sense  the  infant  may 
be  said  to  show  the  germ  of  imagination  when  letting  his 
mind  dwell  on  an  absent  object,  as  the  mother  who  has 
just  left  the  room,  or  when  he  anticipates  some  new  ex- 
perience, as  the  taste  of  an  untried  fruit ;  but  it  is  not  till 
language  is  mastered  that  the  activity  of  the  faculty  be- 
comes well  marked.  It  is  in  listening  to  the  simple  narra- 
tions and  descriptions  of  the  mother  or  nurse  that  the 
child's  power  of  fashioning  new  images  is  first  exercised. 
It  is  noteworthy  that  children  only  manifest  interest  in 
such  narrations  after  they  have  been  accustomed  to  a  ver- 
bal recital  of  their  own  personal  experiences.*  The  capa- 
bility of  representing  a  new  series  of  events  depends  on 
the  exercise  of  the  reproductive  imagination  in  recalling 
old  successions.  But  when  this  power  of  ready  reproduc- 
tion has  attained  a  certain  strength,  children  display  a 
keen  interest  in  listening  to  new  recitals.  They  show  great 
liveliness  and  rapidity  of  fancy  in  following  and  realizing 
these  narrations.  As  Madame  Necker  observes,  **  the 
pleasure  which  the  narration  of  the  most  simple  stories 
affords  children  is  connected  with  the  vivacity  of  the  im- 
ages in  their  minds.  The  pictures  which  we  call  up  within 
them  are  perhaps  more  brilliant  and  of  richer  coloring 

*  M.  Perez  observes  that  a  child  of  twenty  months  delights  in  re- 
counting his  own  little  experiences,  though  he  is  not  yet  keen  to  hear 
stories.    ("  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p.  96.) 


THE  FANCY  OF  CHILDREN,  183 

than  the  real  objects  would  be."  And  this  vividness  of 
the  mental  imagery,  and  intensity  of  realization  of  what  is 
narrated  to  them,  is  further  shown  in  the  jealous  concern 
they  display  for  fidelity  to  the  original  version  when  a 
story  is  repeated. 

Children's  Fancy. — After  a  certain  amount  of  ex- 
ercise of  constructive  power  in  this  simple  receptive  form, 
the  child  shows  a  spontaneous  disposition  to  build  up 
fancies  on  his  own  account.  The  marvels  which  his  new 
world  presents  to  his  mind,  together  with  the  delightful 
consciousness  of  possessing  a  new  power,  seem  to  be  the 
chief  forces  at  work  here.  At  first  this  activity  of  fancy 
manifests  itself  in  close  connection  with  the  perception  of 
actual  objects.  This  is  illustrated  in  children's  play. 
Play  offers  ample  scope  for  practical  ingenuity :  it  is  the 
natural  outcome  of  the  active  impulses  of  childhood,  its 
love  of  doing  things  and  of  finding  out  new  ways  of  doing 
them.  But  it  owes  its  interest  to  another  circumstance, 
namely,  that  it  is  a  mimicry  and  kind  of  make-believe  of 
the  actions  of  adults.  When  at  play  the  child  realizes  by 
an  exercise  of  fancy  the  objects  and  actions  which  he  is 
mimicking.  The  actual  objects  supply  a  basis  of  reality 
on  which  the  imagination  more  easily  constructs  its  fabric. 
By  the  "alchemy  of  imagination,"  as  it  has  been  called, 
the  doll  becomes  in  a  manner  transformed  into  a  living 
child,  the  rude  stick  into  a  horse,  and  so  on.  A  very 
rough  basis  of  analogy  will  suffice  for  these  creations  of 
fancy  :  hence  a  boy  will  derive  as  much  pleasure  from  a 
broken  and  shapeless  hobby-horse  as  from  the  most  life- 
like toy.  Play  thus  illustrates  in  a  striking  manner  the 
liveliness  of  children's  fancy.  In  their  spontaneous  games 
they  betray  the  germs  of  artistic  imagination  :  they  are  in 
a  sense  at  once  poets  and  actors.^^ 

This  exuberance  of  imaginative  activity  shows  itself 
commonly  too  in  another  form.  A- child  of  three  or  four 
years  who  has  heard  a  number  of  stories  will  display  great 


l84  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION. 

activity  in  modeling  new  ones.*  These  fabrications  shoe 
the  influence  of  the  child's  own  experience  and  observa- 
tion as  well  as  of  the  narratives  of  others.  At  this  period 
free  spontaneous  fancy  is  apt  to  assume  extravagant 
shapes.  A  strong  susceptibility  to  the  excitement  of  the 
marvelous,  and  a  childish  love  of  what  is  odd  and  grotesque, 
often  supply  the  impelling  force  in  these  constructions. 
Young  children  are  wont  to  project  themselves  in  fancy 
to  distant  regions  of  space,  and  to  transform  themselves 
into  other  objects.  Thus,  a  child  barely  three  years  was 
accustomed  to  wish  she  might  live  in  the  water  with  the 
fishes,  or  be  a  beautiful  star  in  the  sky.  The  daring  of 
these  combinations  is  to  a  considerable  extent  accounted 
for  by  the  child's  ignorance  of  what  is  impossible  and  im- 
probable in  reality.  To  the  young  mind  to  fly  up  into  the 
sky  is  an  idea  which  has  nothing  absurd  about  it.  The 
riotous  activity  of  children's  fancy  is  thus  due  in  part  to 
the  want  of  those  checks  which  a  fuller  experience  and  a 
riper  judgment  necessarily  impose. 

Imagination  brought  under  Control.— The  prog- 
ress of  experience  and  the  growth  of  knowledge  lead  to  a 
moderation  of  childish  fancy.  From  the  first  spontaneous 
form,  in  which  it  is  free  to  follow  every  capricious  impulse, 
it  passes  into  the  more  regulated  form,  in  which  it  is  con- 
trolled by  an  enlightened  will.  That  is  to  say,  its  activity 
becomes  directed  by  the  sense  of  what  is  true,  life-like, 
and  probable.  This  shows  itself  even  in  the  matter  of 
fiction.  The  old  nursery  tales  cease  to  please.  Stories 
bearing  more  resemblance  to  real  life,  histories  of  children, 
th^ir  doings  and  experiences,  take  their  place.  In  this  way 
the  earlier  impulses,  the  love  of  the  marvelous,  the  liking 

*  These  fanciful  creations  are  often  built  up  on  a  slender  basis  of 
observation.  Thus  a  little  girl  (sf  years)  once  found  a  stone  with  a 
hole  in  it,  and  set  to  work  to  weave  a  pretty  fairy-tale  respecting  it. 
To  her  fancy  it  became  the  wonderful  stone,  having  inside  it  beautiful 
rooms,  and  lovely  fairies  who  dance,  sing,  and  live  happily. 


LATER  GROWTH  OF  IMAGINATION.        185 

for  the  grotesque  and  ridiculous,  are  replaced  by  higher 
motives,  a  desire  to  learn  about  things,  and  a  regard  for 
what  is  true  to  nature  and  life  ;  and  this  result  is  seen 
still  more  clearly  in  the  gradual  subjection  of  the  imagina- 
tion to  the  ends  of  knowledge  and  truth.  As  youth  pro- 
gresses, more  and  more  of  imaginative  activity  is  absorbed 
in  reading  and  learning  about  the  facts  of  the  real  world. 

Later  Growth  of  Imagination. — Although  through 
the  development  of  the  powers  of  judgment  and  reasoning 
the  child's  wild  fancy  becomes  curbed,  it  is  a  mistake  to 
suppose  that  the  imaginative  powers  cease  to  grow.  We 
are  apt  to  attribute  to  children  a  high  degree  of  imagina- 
tiveness just  because  we  are  struck  by  the  boldness  of 
their  conceits.  But  the  same  child  that  performs  one  of 
these  "feats  of  imagination"  would  find  it  difficult  to 
form  a  clear  mental  picture  of  an  animal  or  a  city  that 
was  described  to  him.  The  power  of  imaginative  con- 
struction goes  on  developing,  with  the  gradual  enrichment 
of  the  memory,  by  the  fruits  of  experience,  as  well  as  with 
the  repeated  exercise  of  the  faculty,^^ 

This  higher  development  oT  the  imaginative  faculty 
means,  first  of  all,  increased  facility  in  grouping  elements 
of  experience.  A  piece  of  imaginative  work  of  the  same 
degree  of  complexity  comes  to  be  executed  in  less  time 
and  with  less  effort.  Thus  the  child  of  twelve  follows  a 
book  of  travel  or  an  historical  narrative  with  greater  facility 
than  one  of  six.  Similarly,  the  advanced  student  of  botany 
or  zoology  finds  it  easier  to  realize  a  description  of  a  plant 
or  animal  than  a  tyro  in  the  science.  In  the  second  place, 
this  progress  implies  an  increase  in  the  difficulty  of  the 
operations  which  become  possible.  By  more  difficult 
operations  must  be  understood  either  more  complex  com- 
binations, such  as  the  visualizing  of  a  large  and  intricate 
scene,  say  a  battle  ;  or  combinations  more  remote  from 
our  every-day  experience,  as  the  scenery  and  events  of 
**  Paradise  Lost,"  or  the  life  of  primitive  races. 


I86  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION. 

Varieties  of  Imaginative  Power. — Different  per- 
sons differ  in  power  of  imagination  no  less  markedly  per- 
haps than  in  that  of  memory.  These  differences  may  be 
either  general  or  special.  One  boy  will  display  superior 
constructive  ability  generally.  More  commonly,  excel- 
lence in  imaginative  capability  shows  itself  in  some  special 
direction.  Thus,  we  have  a  good  imagination  for  visible 
objects,  for  musical  combinations,  for  practical  expedients, 
and  so  forth.  And  as  a  more  circumscribed  development 
we  find  a  specially  good  power  of  imagining  natural 
scenery,  faces,  or  historical  incidents. 

These  differences  plainly  depend  partly  on  native  in- 
equalities and  partly  on  differences  in  surroundings,  the 
influence  of  companionship,  and  special  exercise  and  train- 
ing. Children  differ  from  the  first  in  their  formative 
power  as  a  whole.  Some  minds  are  able  to  readily  recast 
the  various  results  of  their  experience,  while  others  find  it 
hard  to  break  up  the  mental  connections  forged  by  ex- 
perience. Again,  we  commonly  observe  a  special  bent  to 
one  kind  of  imaginative  activity,  which  is  the  outcome  of 
a  specially  good  sense,  with  its  accompanying  superior 
degree  of  retentiveness.  In  this  way  the  born  painter, 
with  his  fine  eye  and  his  good  memory  for  color,  would 
naturally  find  it  easy  to  exercise  his  imagination  on  this 
material.  Not  only  so,  the  emotional  susceptibilities  and 
the  special  interests  of  the  individual  have  much  to  do 
with  fixing  the  special  line  of  development  of  the  imagina- 
tion. A  naturally  strong  liking  for  scientific  observation 
and  discovery  leads  a  boy  to  exercise  his  imagination  in 
relation  to  natural  phenomena  and  their  laws,  whereas  a 
deep  feeling  for  the  beautiful  aspect  of  things  would  impel 
the  imagination  to  follow  the  line  of  artistic  or  poetic  com- 
bination. 

While  in  this  way  much  of  the  difference,  with  respect 
both  to  the  generaf  and  to  the  special  development  of 
imaginative  power,  is  predetermined  by  natural  aptitude 


IMAGINATIVE   TRAINING.  187 

and  inclination,  the  influence  of  surroundings  and  of  edu- 
cation is  a  considerable  one.  Systematic  training  will 
never  make  a  naturally  unimaginative  child  quick  to  im- 
agine, but  it  may  materially  improve  the  power,  and 
even  raise  it  to  a  respectable  height  in  some  special  direc- 
tion. 

Training  of  the  Imagination. — The  notion  that 
the  educator  has  a  special  work  to  do  in  exercising  and 
guiding  the  imagination  of  the  young  is  a  comparatively 
new  one.  The  common  supposition  of  the  inutility,  not 
to  say  the  mischievous  nature,  of  the  faculty  touched  on 
above  naturally  led  to  the  idea  that  if  the  educator  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  imagination  of  his  pupils,  it  was 
solely  by  way  of  repressing  its  activity.  It  is  to  be  hoped, 
however,  that  a  clearer  apprehension  of  the  scope  of  imag- 
inative activity,  and  the  important  part  it  plays  in  the 
operations  of  intellect,  will  turn  teachers'  attention  more 
and  more  to  the  problem  of  helping  to  develop  the  faculty 
in  a  healthy  and  worthy  form. 

As  has  been  pointed  out  above,  the  imagination,  in  the 
unregulated  form  of  fancy,  is  a  precocious  faculty.  Chil- 
dren often  show  a  liveliness,  a  rapidity,  and  a  daring  in 
their  fancies  which  astonish  their  elders.  This  precocity 
of  the  imaginative  faculty  points  to  the  need  of  an  edu- 
cational discipline  of  it  at  an  early  stage  of  mental  devel- 
opment. In  truth,  the  work  of  training  the  imagination 
should  begin  and  be  carried  to  a  certain  stage  in  the 
child's  home. 

Twofold  Direction  of  Imaginative  Training.— 
The  peculiar  position  of  imagination,  in  relation  to  the 
intellect  on  one  side  and  to  the  feelings  and  character  on 
the  other,  gives  rise  to  educational  problems  of  peculiar 
complexity.  The  teacher  must  keep  in  mind  the  several 
aspects  and  functions  of  this  mental  power,  if  he  would 
assign  it  its  proper  place  in  a  scheme  of  mental  training. 
Speaking  broadly,  we  may  say  that  the  discipline  of  the 


1 83  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION, 

imagination  has  a  negative  or  prohibitory,  and  a  positive 
or  regulative  side. 

(a)  Restraining  Fancy. —It  follows,  from  what  was 
said  above  respecting  the  intellectual  and  moral  dangers 
of  an  excessive  indulgence  of  the  imagination,  that  the 
faculty  may  need  to  be  curbed  and  restrained.  The  edu- 
cator must  remember  that,  as  Miss  Edgeworth  observes, 
imagination,  like  fire,  **is  a  good  servant,  but  a  bad  mas- 
ter." In  the  case  of  children  the  liveliness  of  their  fancies, 
their  ignorance  and  timidity,  expose  them  to  special  risks 
from  this  source.  The  fact  that  children  are  apt  to  take 
all  stories  of  fairy,  giant,  and  so  on  as  gospel  imposes 
special  obligations  on  the  parent  and  teacher.  Their 
minds  may  easily  be  overexcited  by  stories.  Not  only  so, 
children  are  wont  to  believe  in  the  reality  of  their  dreams, 
and  many  a  child  has  suffered  much  from  haunting  recol- 
lections of  its  nightmare  fancies.*  Every  care  must  be 
taken  to  ward  off  and  dispel  dismal  fancies.  And,  further, 
a  too  decided  bent  to  imaginative  indulgence,  to  building 
castles  in  the  air,  and  to  reverie,  should  be  corrected  by 
calling  forth  the  faculties  of  the  child's  mind  in  grappling 
with  real  facts,  and  in  attractive  and  useful  kinds  of  ac- 
tivity. 

In  thus  repressing  childish  fancy,  however,  much  dis- 
crimination and  judgment  is  needed.  Educators  have 
been  wont,  perhaps,  to  overestimate  the  evils  of  children's 
flights  of  fancy.  The  imaginative  creation  of  a  glorious 
realm  of  fairy-land  is  natural  and  appropriate  to  childhood. 
It  is  the  source  of  much  pure  delight,  and  the  fond  de- 
lusion tends,  in  ordinary  cases,  to  disappear  with  so  little 
suffering  that  its  harmful  effects  become  evanescent.  It 
is  only  in  special  cases,  where  there  is  a  specially  lively 
fancy  and  a  too  tenacious  hold  on  the  imaginary  world, 
with  a  corresponding  want  of  interest  in  adjacent  reali- 

*  Beneke  tells  us  that  both  Erhard  and  Kasper  Hauser,  when  chil- 
dren, believed  in  the  reality  of  their  dreams. 


CUL  TI VA  TING   THE  I M AGIN  A  TION        \  89 
ties,  that  a  decided  interference  by  the  educator  is  called 

(b)  Cultivating  the  Imagination. — While  the  edu- 
cator has  thus  to  check  and  limit  the  activity  of  youthful 
fancy  in  certain  directions,  he  has  also  an  important 
function  to  discharge  in  aiding  to  develop  the  faculty. 
He  should  remember  that  the  playful  activity  of  the  fancy 
at  this  early  period  is  valuable  as  a  preparation  for  the 
serious  intellectual  work  of  later  years.  Just  as  the  in- 
fant's plump  unformed  hand,  by  its  seemingly  idle  and 
purposeless  manipulations  of  whatever  comes  within  reach, 
is  acquiring  strength  and  precision  of  movement  for  the 
labors  of  after-life,  so  the  imagination  develops  into  a 
strong  and  flexible  organ  by  what  are  apt  to  seem  to  older 
people  foolish  indulgences.  The  parent  should  not  be 
too  anxious  to  check  even  the  vagaries  of  childish  im- 
agination. To  a  large  extent  these  may  be  left  to  correct 
themselves.  So  long  as  these  sportive  flights  of  fancy 
direct  themselves  to  what  is  wonderful,  beautiful,  or 
merely  grotesque,  and  steer  clear  of  the  sensational  and 
horrible,  they  are  not  likely  to  do  much  mischief  either  to 
the  intellect  or  to  the  character. 

But  the  parent  should  not  leave  the  child's  fancy  alto- 
gether to  follow  its  own  wayward  will,  but  should  seek  to 
aid  in  developing  and  guiding  it  into  healthy  channels  of 
activity  by  supplying  appropriate  objects.  The  habitual 
narration  of  stories,  description  of  places,  and  so  on,  is  an 
essential  ingredient  in  the  early  education  of  the  home. 
The  child  that  has  been  well  drilled  there  in  following 
stories  and  descriptions,  will,  other  things  being  equal,  be 
the  better  learner  at  school.  Such  exercises  train  the 
young  mind  in  fixing  the  attention  and  in-  taming  the 
fancy,  compelling  it  to  move  within  prescribed  lines  laid 
down  by  another.  The  early  nurture  of  imagination  by 
means  of  good  wholesome  food  has  had  much  to  do 
with  determining  the  degree  of  imaginative  power,  and, 


IQO  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION. 

through  this,  of  the  range   of   intellectual   activity  ulti- 
mately reached.^ 

In  order  to  train  the  imagination  wisely,  we  must  at- 
tend to  the  natural  laws  of  its  operation.  Thus  it  is  ob- 
vious that  the  first  constructive  tasks  imposed  should  be 
simple,  and  so  adapted  to  the  limited  experiences  of  the 
child.  The  first  condition  of  success  in  every  attempt  to 
call  the  child's  imagination  into  play  is  to  make  sure  that 
he  has  the  necessary  stock  of  experiences  out  of  which 
the  picture  has  to  be  constructed.  Such  experiences  are 
needed  not  only  to  supply  the  elements  or  details  of  the 
mental  picture,  but  also  to  provide  analogies  which  may 
serve  as  a  rough  model  for  the  composition.  Thus,  to 
take  a  simple  example,  a  child  will  be  aided  to  form  a 
mental  picture  of  a  snow  mountain  not  only  by  recalling 
the  mountain  form  and  the  white  snow,  but  also  by  re- 
ferring to  some  familiar  object  which  shall  serve  as  a  pro- 
totype of  the  whole,  say  a  loaf  of  sugar. 

The  second  main  condition  of  success  is  to  awaken  a 
lively  interest  or  motive.  The  materials  provided  for 
constructive  activity,  the  scene  described,  or  the  action 
narrated,  must  be  interesting  and  attractive  to  the  child,  as 
well  as  within  his  grasp.  The  child's  feelings  must  be  ap- 
pealed to  by  the  pretty,  amusing,  pathetic,  or  noble  aspect 
of  the  theme.  It  is  only  when  the  feelings  are  thus  gently 
stirred  that  the  imagination  is  lively.  At  the  same  time 
the  emotional  effect  must  not  be  allowed  to  become 
strong  and  violent,  so  as  to  interfere  with  distinctness  of 
imagination  and  a  full  impartial  grasp  of  all  the  elements 
of  the  description.  This  shows  that  in  training  the  im- 
agination we  need  to  study  the  emotional  side  of  child- 
nature  and  its  many  individual  varieties. 

Once  more,  the  imagination,  like  every  other  faculty, 
must  be  called  into  play  gradually.  Not  only  should  the 
conservative  operation  be  adapted  to  the  growing  ex- 
perience of  the  child,  and  the  natural  order  of  unfolding 


CULTIVATING    THE  IMAGINATION.        191 

of  his  feelings,  it  must  be  suited  to  the  degree  of  imagina- 
tive power  already  attained.  Thus  descriptions  and  nar- 
rations should  increase  in  length  and  intricacy  by  gradual 
steps.  The  first  exercises  of  the  imagination  should  be  by 
means  of  short,  telling  narrations  of  interesting  incidents 
in  animal  and  child  life.  Such  stories  deal  in  experiences 
which  are  thoroughly  intelligible  and  interesting  to  the 
child.  The  best  of  the  traditional  stories,  as  that  of 
Cinderella,  are  well  fitted  by  their  simplicity  as  well  as  by 
their  romantic  and  adventurous  character  to  please  and 
engross  the  imagination.  And  fables  in  which  the  moral 
element  is  not  made  too  prominent  and  depressing,  and  in 
which  the  child's  characteristic  feelings,  e.  g.,  his  love  of 
fun,  are  allowed  a  certain  scope,  will  commonly  be 
reckoned  among  his  favorites.  As  the  feeling  of  curiosity 
unfolds,  and  the  imaginative  faculty  gains  strength  by  ex- 
ercise, more  elaborate  and  less  exciting  stories  may  be 
introduced. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  a  good  deal  of  so-called  chil- 
dren's literature  offends  by  inattention  to  these  obvious 
conditions  of  success.  It  is  not  needful  to  speak  of  the 
"  nightmare  "  and  strongly  sensational  stories  which  injure 
children's  minds  by  disposing  them  to  dwell  in  a  morbid 
way  on  images  of  the  terrible,  and  vitiate  the  taste  by  be- 
getting a  craving  for  sensational  excitement.  For,  though 
examples  of  such  pernicious  child's  literature  might  be 
found  in  classical  collections  of  fairy-tales,  the  judicious 
parent  may  be  trusted  to  guard  his  children  from  injury  in 
this  direction.  Nor  need  one  refer  to  the  patently  didactic 
and  "  goody  "  stories  which  commonly  weary  children — 
when  they  succeed  in  engaging  any  measure  of  their  at- 
tention at  all.  For  these  seem  to  be  rapidly  growing  old- 
fashioned.  It  is  more  important  to  call  attention  to  a  be- 
setting fault  in  recent  children's  literature,  viz.,  that  of 
describing  experiences,  situations,  impressions  and  feel- 
ings quite  out  of  their  mental  reach.     The  writers  of  chil- 


192  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION. 

dren's  books  but  too  rarely  have  the  art  of  looking  at  the 
world  with  the  eyes  of  a  young  person.  It  is  no  doubt 
true  that  children's  literature  has  of  late  greatly  improved 
in  point  of  naturalness,  brightness,  picturesqueness,  and 
other  good  qualities ;  still,  this  vice  of  writing  over  chil- 
dren's heads  is  a  serious  drawback  to  its  educational 
value. 

Exercise  of  the  Imagination  in  Teaching. — The 
main  proposition  emphasized  in  this  chapter  is  that  the 
imagination  is  necessarily  exercised  in  the  work  of  in- 
structing the  child  in  the  knowledge  of  the  realities  which 
surround  him.  This  is  apparent  in  the  beginnings  of 
teaching.  The  intelligent  parent  who  talks  to  the  child 
about  the  wonders  of  nature,  the  formation  of  clouds  and 
rain,  the  movements  of  the  earth  and  the  stars,  the  flow  of 
sap  in  the  plant,  and  the  ways  of  animals,  is  continually 
calling  forth  the  learner's  imaginative  powers.  And  all 
verbal  instruction  in  the  facts  of  human  experience,  the 
lives  of  the  great  and  good,  the  habits  of  different  races 
of  mankind,  the  history  of  the  nations,  and  so  forth,  opens 
up  another  wide  and  attractive  arena  for  the  exercise  of 
the  imagination.  There  is  a  special  value  in  thus  training 
the  imagination  in  connection  with  the  process  of  acquir- 
ing real  knowledge.  The  necessity  of  grasping  and  under- 
standing realities  disciplines  the  fleet-winged  faculty  to  a 
certain  sobriety  of  movement,  and  thus  fits  it  to  be  the 
useful  ally  of  the  understanding. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  imagination  is  called  into  activity 
in  all  branches  of  teaching.  In  some  branches,  as  history 
and  geography,  it  is  more  especially  exercised.  Here, 
then,  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  operation  of  the  faculty 
will  be  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  the  teacher. 

Here,  too,  the  first  thing  to  attend  to  is  to  take  care  to 
call  up  the  needed  past  impressions  in  a  vivid  and  distinct 
form.  This  end  will  be  secured  to  some  extent  by  a  wise 
selection  of  words.     These  must,  so  far  as  possible,  be 


IMAGINATION  IN   TEACHING. 


193 


simple  and  homely,  so  that  they  may  call  up  the  images  at 
once.  More  than  this,  the  teacher  should  remind  the 
child  of  facts  in  his  experience,  the  recollection  of  which 
may  contribute  to  the  production  of  a  distinct  idea  of  the 
place,  scene,  or  event.  Thus,  in  describing  an  historical 
event,  the  several  features  must  be  made  clear  by  parallel 
facts  in  the  child's  small  world,  and  so  the  whole  scene 
made  distinct  by  the  help  of  analogies.  This  requires  a 
good  deal  of  knowledge  of  child-life  and  much  skill  in 
searching  out  analogies.  In  thus  utilizing  the  child's  own 
experiences,  however,  the  teacher  must  be  careful  to  help 
the  child  to  distinguish  the  new  from  the  old,  and  not  to 
import  into  the  new  image  the  accidental  and  irrelevant 
accessories  of  his  experience. 

Once  more,  the  teacher  must  seek  to  follow  the  natural 
order  in  exercising  the  imagination.  He  should  remember 
that  all  knowledge  proceeds  from  the  vague  and  indefinite 
to  the  definite  and  exact,  that  clear  ideas  are  formed  by  a 
gradual  process  of  development.  There  is  first  a  dim  out- 
line, a  blurred  scheme,  and  this  gradually  grows  distinct 
by  additions  of  detailed  features.  Thus  the  description 
of  a  country  best  begins  with  a  rough  outline  of  its  con- 
tour, its  surroundings,  and  its  larger  features,  as  mountain- 
chains,  etc.  Similarly,  historical  narrative,  say  that  of  a 
particular  reign  in  English  history,  best  sets  out  with  a 
recital  of  the  leading  events,  which  may  serve  as  a  rough 
scheme  or  outline  of  the  whole,  into  which  the  details  may 
be  fitted.  There  is  an  orderly  procedure  in  description 
which  is  needed  by  the  imagination  as  much  as  by  the 
understanding.  A  sudden  plunge  into  details,  and  a  dis- 
connected enumeration  of  these,  are  fatal  to  an  orderly 
construction. 

Again,  in  successively  unfolding  the  different  parts  of 
such  a  complex  subject  as  the  history  or  geography  of  a 
country,  that  order  should  be  followed  which  is  most 
favorable   to   imaginative    activity.      Thus  the   progress 


194  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION. 

should  be,  so  far  as  possible,  from  the  known  to  the 
unknown.  In  geography,  for  example,  the  teacher,  after 
a  brief  elementary  account  of  the  earth,  starts  with  the 
child's  own  country  and  locality,  and  so  passes  gradually 
to  more  distant  parts  of  the  globe,  where  the  natural 
features  and  the  human  life  are  strange,  and  therefore 
difficult  to  realize.  Also,  what  is  relatively  simple  and 
interesting  should  precede  more  complex  and  difficult 
matter.  Thus,  the  first  instruction  in  history  should  be 
quasi-biographical  and  a  natural  development  of  the  early 
story,  and  the  larger  and  more  intricate  study  of  the  his- 
tory of  peoples,  of  the  growth  of  constitutions,  and  so 
forth,  reserved  for  a  later  stage  of  development.*  Simi- 
larly, in  teaching  geography,  the  human  interest  should  at 
first  be  made  prominent  by  connecting  description  with  a 
narration  of  some  real  or  imaginary  journey,  with  its  ad- 
ventures, dangers,  eta 

Finally,  in  all  such  teaching  by  way  of  verbal  descrip- 
tion, the  imagination  of  the  learner  should  be  assisted  by 
a  judicious  use  of  actual  sense-impressions.  The  im- 
portant aid  rendered  to  the  child's  imagination  by  globes 
and  models,  and,  in  a  less  degree,  by  maps  of  countries,  is 
recognized  in  modern  systems  of  instruction.  The  ad- 
vantage derivable  from  these  is  due  to  the  circumstance 
that  the  products  of  imagination  are  at  best  only  a  rough 
approximation,  in  respect  of  fullness  and  distinctness,  to 
the  actual  perception  of  a  thing.  Moreover,  description 
of  places  by  means  of  language  always  has  to  encounter 
the  obstacle  that  it  can  only  present  the  parts  of  a  locality 
or  scene  in  succession,  naming  first  one  and  then  another ; 
whereas  the  imagination  requires  to  bring  these  together 
in  one  simultaneous  view.  The  model  or  map  lifts  the 
mind  above  this  difficulty  by  presenting  the  parts  together 

*  In  Mr.  Fitch's  valuable  chapters  on  the  teaching  of  geography  and 
history  ("  I^ectures  on  Teaching,"  chaps,  xii  and  xiii)  the  reader  may  see 
a  good  illustration  of  the  proper  way  to  deal  with  the  imaginative  faculty. 


EXERCISE  OF  INVENTION. 


195 


side  by  side  as  we  should  actually  see  the  localities  them- 
selves. Much  the  same  applies  to  the  aid  rendered  to  the 
historical  imagination  by  pictures  and  coins,  and,  better 
still,  a  visit  to  ancient  buildings,  like  the  Tower  of  Lon- 
don, museums  of  historical  antiquities,  etc. 

While  the  teaching  of  these  comparatively  concrete 
subjects  always  involves  the  activity  of  the  imagination 
in  some  measure,  the  teacher  of  them  may  appeal  to  the 
faculty  in  very  various  degrees.  There  is  a  picturesque 
way  of  describing  a  country,  and  of  narrating  an  incident 
in  history,  in  which  the  chief  aim  of  the  instructor  is  to 
convey  a  lively  picture  of  some  scene  or  event.  Here  the 
wonderful,  stirring,  or  touching  aspects  of  the  scene  or 
event  are  emphasized  ;  and,  further,  much  attention  is 
given  to  detail,  so  that  the  mind  may  have  a  full  pictorial 
representation  of  the  concrete  whole.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  special  object  of  the  lesson  may  be  to  exercise  the 
learner  in  grasping  and  understanding  the  facts  presented 
in  their  relation  one  to  another,  and  to  other  facts.  This 
would  demand  a  more  rigorous  control  of  the  feelings,  a 
less  full  and  vivid  imagination  of  the  details,  and  a  certain 
simplification,  so  that  the  more  essential  features  and  the 
determining  conditions  may  be  readily  seized  by  the 
learner's  mind.  To  know  just  how  far  to  excite  the 
pictorial  imagination  of  the  learner,  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  subject  and  the  special  objects  of  the  lesson, 
is  one  of  the  secrets  of  a  skilled  instructor. 

Exercise  of  Invention. — As  was  pointed  out  above, 
the  constructive  process  enters  into  many  other  mental 
operations  besides  those  which  we  are  accustomed  to  call 
the  work  of  imagination.  In  finding  out  anything,  in  the 
practical  application  of  knowledge  in  useful  contrivance, 
and  in  artistic  invention,  the  child  is  exercising  his  con- 
structive powers.  And  one  important  part  of  education 
concerns  itself  with  the  development  of  this  faculty  of  in- 
ventiveness. 
14 


196  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION, 

Taken  in  this  wide  sense,  the  faculty  of  invention,  or 
ingenuity  in  device,  may  be  exercised  in  every  department 
of  life  and  study.  Thus,  in  making  known  to  the  child 
the  facts  of  nature  and  life,  he  should  be  invited  to  use 
his  powers  of  bringing  together  what  he  already  knows,  in 
order  to  find  out  for  himself,  so  far  as  he  is  able,  what  he 
desires  to  know.  One  important  reason  for  not  telling  a 
child  everything  is  that,  by  compelling  him  to  find  out  for 
himself,  the  educator  exercises  and  strengthens  the  dis- 
covery or  inventive  faculty.  The  more  intellectual  class 
of  games,  too,  may  be  turned  to  good  account  as  an  exer- 
cise of  inventiveness.  The  task  of  tracking  the  mental 
path  through  a  labyrinth  of  suggestions  to  some  particular 
idea  of  a  person  or  thing  by  help  of  successive  clews 
(as  in  the  old-fashioned  game  of  "  How  ?  When  ?  and 
Where  ? ")  is  a  valuable  exercise  of  the  child's  mind  in 
those  very  processes  of  searching  out  the  new  by  the  light 
of  the  old,  by  which  great  scientific  discoveries  are  made. 

Mechanical  contrivance  and  practical  inventiveness  in 
general  are  further  developed  to  a  certain  extent  by  the 
spontaneous  and  playful  activity  of  children.  The  edu- 
cator must  be  careful  not  to  interfere  too  much  with  the 
perfectly  free  and  sportive  character  of  the  activity,  for 
by  so  doing  he  would  rob  it  of  much  of  its  charm  and  of 
its  value.  The  full  exercise  of  invention  presupposes  that 
the  child  is  free  to  choose  his  own  designs  and  plans. 
The  domain  of  play  must  be  respected,  and  only  a  general 
supervision  of  these  self-prompted  activities  maintained. 
In  the  choice  of  toys  it  is  important  to  select  those  which 
offer  the  greatest  scope  for  contrivance.  A  toy  is  not 
something  to  look  at  and  observe  merely,  but  it  must 
admit  of  being  played  with  or  done  something  with  ;  and 
the  more  possibilities  of  various  constructive  activity  a 
toy  offers,  the  better  it  is  as  a  toy,  Jean  Paul  Richter 
says  that  the  best  toy  of  all  is  a  heap  of  sand,  along  with 
which  a  box  of  bricks  may  be  taken.     As  the  child  grows 


EXERCISE  OF  INVENTION.  197 

older  his  mechanical  constructiveness  should  be  called 
forth  by  useful  occupations,  such  as  gardening,  carpenter- 
ing, and  so  forth.* 

The  faculty  of  inventiveness  should  be  encouraged  to 
exercise  itself  in  other  directions  too.  The  artistic  and 
dramatic  impulses  should  be  utilized  as  motives  to  inven- 
tion. A  valuable  part  of  the  intellectual  culture  of  the 
home  is  the  directing  of  children's  activities  into  such 
useful  and  refining  exercises  as  planning  out  the  garden- 
plot,  adorning  the  room,  inventing  little  dramatic  specta- 
cles, and  so  forth.  A  game  like  acting  charades  is  an  ex- 
cellent means  of  calling  into  play  the  children's  readiness 
and  fertility  in  invention,  that  most  useful  capability  of 
laying  under  contribution  the  store  of  acquisitions  so  as 
to  arrive  at  some  new  result  or  produce  some  new  effect. 

The  training  of  manual  and  artistic  constructiveness  is 
one  of  the  chief  objects  aimed  at  in  the  Kindergarten 
exercises  already  spoken  of.  It  must,  however,  be  re- 
membered that  the  directly  controlled  activity  of  the 
Kindergarten  does  not  afford  quite  the  same  scope  for 
development  of  individual  inventiveness  as  play  properly 
so  called.  Here  all  have  to  construct  according  to  a 
definite  external  model.  Such  exercises  serve  the  useful 
purpose  of  training  the  hand  in  dexterity,  in  combining 
movements,  and  developing  the  taste  by  presenting  good 
models.  In  addition  to  this  good  result,  ingenuity  is 
called  forth  in  a  measure  in  discovering  the  proper  way  to 
reproduce  the  pattern.  Not  only  so,  all  such  imitative 
work  may  be  made  a  means  of  ultimately  developing  the  in- 
ventive faculty  in  the  production  of  original  design.  The 
models  supplied  by  the  teacher  give  the  child  a  standard 
by  the  aid  of  which  he  is  the  better  fitted  to  strike  out 
new  plans.     And  this  effect  of  the  manual  exercises  of  the 

*  The  training  of  mechanical  ingenuity  by  various  manual  employ- 
ments is  well  illustrated  by  Miss  Edgeworth.  ("  Practical  Education," 
chap,  i,  p.  33,  and  following.) 


198  CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION. 

school  should  be  secured  by  the  co-operation  of  the 
parent  at  home  in  encouraging  the  child  to  turn  his 
attainments  to  fresh  uses. 

APPENDIX. 

The  characteristics  of  children's  imagination  are  described  by  Perez, 
"  First  Three  Years,"  chap,  ix,  and  "  L'Enfant  de  trois  a  sept  ans," 
chaps,  iii  and  iv.     Cf.  Pfisterer,  "  Paedagogische  Psychologic,"  sec.  14. 

The  educational  importance  and  the  culture  of  the  imagination  are 
dealt  with  very  fully  by  Isaac  Taylor,  "  Home  Education,"  chaps,  ix 
and  X  ("  Culture  of  the  Conceptive  Faculty  ").  Cf.  Miss  Edgeworth, 
**  Practical  ^Education,"  chaps,  xxi  and  xxii  ;  Mdme.  ISecker,  '*  L'Edu- 
cation,"  liflr^iii,  chap,  v,  and  livre  vi,  chaps,  viii  and  ix  ;  Beneke,  op. 
cit.,  sects.  ^3  and  24  ;  Waitz,  op.  cit.^  sec.  10  ("  Vom  Spiele") ;  Rosen- 
kranz,  "  Paed.  as  System,"  p.  42,  etc. 

In  connection  with  the  training  of  the  imagination,  the  student 
would  do  well  to  study  the  principles  of  the  art  of  description  as  set 
forth  in  Prof.  Bain's  "  English  Composition  and  Rhetoric." 


CHAPIER  XII. 

ABSTRACTION    AND   CONCEPTION. 

Apprehension  and  Comprehension.— The  intel- 
lectual operations  hitherto  considered  have  had  to  do  with 
individual  things.  To  perceive,  remember,  and  imagine 
have  reference  to  some  particular  object,  as  the  river 
Thames,  or  a  particular  occurrence,  as  the  opening  of  the 
new  law-courts.  But  we  may  reflect  and  reason  about 
rivers  or  ceremonies  in  general.  When  we  do  so  we  are 
said  to  think.  In  thinking  we  are  concerned  not  with  sin- 
gle objects  with  all  their  individual  peculiarities,  e.  g.,  this 
oak-tree,  with  its  particular  size,  twisted  shape,  etc.,  but 
with  certain  qualities  of  these  objects  common  to  these 
and  many  others,  e.  g.,  the  general  characters  of  oaks  or 
of  trees.  In  other  words,  when  we  think  our  minds  are 
occupied  about  the  qualities  of  things,  their  relations  one 
to  another,  and  the  general  classes  into  which  they  natu- 
rally fall. 

Thinking  is  closely  related  to  understanding,  and  in- 
deed the  two  words  are  often  used  to  mark  off  the  same 
region  of  intellectual  operation.  When  we  view  an  object 
as  a  concrete  whole,  we  apprehend  it ;  when,  however,  we 
regard  it  under  some  aspect  common  to  it  and  other 
things,  we  comprehend  it.  Thus  the  child  apprehends  this 
particular  building,  that  is  to  say  as  an  individual  thing 
distinct  from  surrounding  things,  having  a  particular  shape, 
size,  etc.  ;  he  comprehends  it  when  he  recognizes  it  as  one 


200  ABSTRACTION  AND  CONCEPTION, 

of  a  class  of  things,  as  buildings  or  products  of  human 
labor.  To  understand  things  is  thus  to  assimilate  them 
to,  or  to  class  them  with,  other  things. 

Stages  of  Thinking. — It  is  common  to  distinguish 
three  stages  of  thinking.  First  of  all,  there  is  the  forma- 
tion of  general  ideas,  general  notions,  or  concepts,  which 
may  be  said  to  constitute  the  elements  of  thought,  such 
as  "  material  body,"  "  weight,"  This  is  called  conception. 
Next  to  this  comes  the  combining  of  two  concepts  in 
the  form  of  a  statement  or  proposition,  as  when  we  say 
"material  bodies  have  weight."  This  is  termed  an  act  of 
judging.  Lastly,  we  have  the  operation  by  which  the  mind 
passes  from  certain  judgments  (or  statements)  to  certain 
other  judgments,  as  when  from  the  assertions  ''material 
substances  have  weight,"  "  gases  are  material  substances," 
we  proceed  to  the  further  assertion  "  gases  have  weight," 
This  process  is  described  as  reasoning,  or  drawing  an  in- 
ference or  conclusion. 

The  General  Notion  or  Concept. — A  general  idea 
or  concept  is  the  idea  in  our  minds  answering  to  a  general 
name,  as  soldier,  man,  animal.  When  we  use  these  terms 
we  do  not  form  complete  pictures  of  individuals  with  their 
several  peculiarities.  Thus  the  term  soldier  does  not  call 
up  the  full  impression  of  some  one  individual  that  we  hap- 
pen to  know,  with  his  proper  height,  style  of  uniform,  etc. 
Still  less  when  we  use  the  name  animal  are  we  distinctly 
imagining  some  particular  individual,  as  our  dog  Carlo  or 
the  elephant  Jumbo.  The  general  idea  or  notion  is  thus 
not  a  pictorial  representation  of  a  concrete  thing,  but 
a  general  abstract  representation  of  those  qualities  which' 
are  common  to  a  number  of  things. 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  obvious  that  there  is  a  close 
connection  between  a  concept  and  the  corresponding 
image.  If,  for  example,  we  had  never  seen  or  heard  a 
description  of  individual  soldiers,  we  could  not  form  the 
general  idea,  or  think  of  the  class,  soldier.     More  than 


HOW  CONCEPTS  ARE  FORMED.  20 1 

this,  if  we  could  not  at  the  moment  of  using  a  general  name 
recall  particular  examples  with  some  degree  of  distinctness, 
the  name  would  be  devoid  of  meaning  for  us.  In  thinking 
of  any  general  class,  as  a  plant,  our  minds  are  represent- 
ing individuals,  only  in  a  comprehensive  and  abstract  way. 
That  is  to  say,  we  have  the  power  of  putting  out  of  sight 
for  the  moment  their  individual  peculiarities,  and  of  fixing 
the  attention  on  their  common  or  general  qualities.  Thus, 
in  thinking  of  *'  trfee,"  we  indistinctly  recall  the  elm,  oak, 
and  so  on  ;  but  what  we  specially  bring  into  view  is  the 
common  features  of  trees,  arrangement  of  branches  on  a 
trunk,  and  leaves  on  the  branches,  etc.  \^^^ 

How  Concepts  are  formed. — From  this  slight  ac- 
count of  the  concept,  we  may  see  that  it  is  fashioned  out 
of  percepts  and  images,  It  is  the  result  of  a  process  of 
elaboration  carried  out  on  the  impressions  supplied  by 
concrete  individual  things. 

In  the  case  of  the  less  general  or  abstract  notions,  such 
as  gold,  dog,  oak-tree,  this  growth  of  general  ideas  is  a 
comparatively  passive  process  of  assimilating  the  like  to 
the  like.  A  child  forms  an  idea  of  horse,  house,  and  so  on, 
with  very  little  mental  effort.  In  the  case  of  the  more 
abstract  notions,  however,  as  metal,  animal,  or  plant,  there 
is  involved  a  special  activity  of  mind.  It  brings  into  ex- 
ercise what  is  commonly  called  the  faculty  of  abstraction. 
Hence  the  process  of  conception  in  this  higher  form  is  one 
of  the  later  intellectual  operations. 

This  operation  of  elaborating  concrete  impressions 
into  concepts  is  com.mo:'Jy  said  to  fall  into  three  stages  : 
(i)  comparison,  or  comparing  individuals  one  with  an- 
other; (2)  abstraction,  or  withdrawing  the  mind  from  in- 
dividual differences  and  fixing  it  on  common  qualities ; 
and  (3)  generalization,  or  the  formation  of  the  idea  of  a 
general  class  on  the  ground  of  these  common  qualities. 

(A)  Comparison. — By  an  act  of  comparison  is  meant 
the  voluntary  direction  of  attention  to  two  or  more  objects 


202  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION, 

at  the  same  moment,  or  in  immediate  succession,  with  a 
view  to  discover  their  differences  or  their  agreements. 
The  objects  may  be  both  present  together,  and  placed  in 
juxtaposition,  as  when  a  teacher  compares  the  handwriting 
of  a  child  with  the  copy  ;  or,  as  often  happens,  may  be 
(either  wholly  or  in  part)  represented,  as  when  we  recall  a 
person's  face  in  order  to  compare  it  with  another  which 
we  are  now  observing. 

As  we  saw  above,  a  child  in  percefving  an  object  dis- 
criminates and  assimilates.  Thus,  in  recognizing  a  figure, 
as  that  of  his  father,  he  marks  off  the  object  in  respect  of 
height,  etc.,  from  other  objects.  In  like  manner,  when  he 
recognizes  an  object,  as  an  orange,  he  assimilates  it  to 
other  and  previously  seen  objects.  Yet  here  the  differ- 
ences and  similarities  are  only  implicitly  seized,  and  not 
rendered  explicit.  The  child  does  not  distinctly  recall 
other  figures  from  which  that  of  his  father  differs,  nor  does 
he  distinctly  recall  other  oranges  which  the  present  one 
resembles. 

The  explicit  setting  forth  of  differences  and  similarities 
takes  place  by  means  of  comparison.  In  this  we  place  the 
objects  differing  or  agreeing  in  mental  juxtaposition,  so  as 
to  distinctly  view  them  as  related  by  way  of  similarity  or 
dissimilarity.  This  act  of  comparison  marks  a  certain 
development  of  intellectual  power.  An  infant  can  distin- 
guish and  recognize  a  person,  say  its  mother,  but  it  can 
not  compare  one  person  with  another. 

This  act  of  comparing  two  objects  illustrates  the  high- 
est kind  of  exercise  of  the  power  of  voluntary  concentra- 
tion. The  attention  has  to  pass  rapidly  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  grasp  them  together,  so  that  their  relation  of 
dissimilarity  or  similarity  may  become  apparent  and  well- 
defined. 

Conditions  of  Comparison. — It  is  obvious  that  the 
act  of  comparison  may  be  furthered  by  certain  favorable 
conditions.     Thus  it  is  in  general  a  distinct  advantage  to 


CONDITIONS  OF  COMPARISON.  203 

have  the  objects  compared  actually  present  to  the  senses. 
A  child  can  compare  two  things,  as  brass  and  gold,  or  a 
butterfly  and  a  moth,  much  better  when  he  sees  them  both 
at  the  same  time  than  when  he  has  to  recall  what  he  has 
seen.  Where  it  is  necessary  to  compare  something  present 
with  something  absent,  it  is  desirable  to  make  the  image 
of  the  latter  as  distinct  as  possible. 

Again,  it  is  very  important  to  bring  the  objects  into 
juxtaposition.  Thus,  in  trying  to  see  whether,  and  in  what 
respects,  the  brass  differs  from  the  gold,  the  child  should 
have  them  close  together  before  his  eyes.  Or,  if  the  ob- 
jects compared  are  in  their  nature  fleeting,  as  musical 
sounds,  it  is  necessary  to  make  them  follow  one  another 
immediately.  • 

Besides  these  external  aids  to  comparison,  there  are 
certain  internal  conditions.  The  mind  must  be  calm  and 
free  from  all  preoccupation,  and  must  have  the  vigor  and 
energy  necessary  to  such  a  severe  effort  of  attention.  We 
may  compare  two  things  either  on  the  side  of  their  simi- 
larity or  on  that  of  their  difference.  Thus  a  child  may 
fix  his  attention  on  the  similarity  in  size  between  the  moth 
and  the  butterfly,  or  on  the  difference  between  them. 
Which  of  the  two  shall  specially  engage  his  attention  will 
depend  on  certain  circumstances.  Where  two  things  are 
very  unlike,  and  the  resemblance  between  them  relatively 
small  and  unimpressive,  as  the  two  metals  gold  and  quick- 
silver, it  is  proportionately  difficult  to  detect  the  latter. 
Again,  some  persons  have  a  special  aptitude  and  readi- 
ness in  seeing  similarities,  others  in  seeing  differences. 
And,  lastly,  a  person  may  come  specially  prepared  to  see 
either  likeness  or  unlikeness.  Thus,  if  a  child  is  asked 
how  two  objects  resemble  one  another,  he  naturally  looks 
out  for  the  similarity  between  them. 

We  may  now  pass  to  the  special  form  of  comparison 
necessary  to  conception.  Here,  it  is  evident,  the  mind  is 
on  the  lookout  for  likeness.     In  extricating  the  common 


204         ABSTRACTION  AND  CONCEPTION. 

qualities  of  iron,  lead,  and  other  metals,  we  are  seeking  to 
trace  out  or  detect  the  similarities  of  things. 

The  conditions  here  are  a  number  of  objects  brought 
together  -before  the  mind,  either  directly  by  way  of  the 
senses,  or  indirectly  by  means  of  the  reproductive  imagi- 
nation. The  objects  being  thus  present,  the  mind  is 
called  upon  to  pass  its  attention  from  one  to  the  other, 
with  a  view  to  detect  the  features  or  qualities  which  are 
manifested  by  all  alike. 

(B)  Abstraction. — The  next  stage  of  the  process  of 
conception,  which  is  closely  connected  with  the  first,  is 
known  as  abstraction.  This  means  the  withdrawing  of 
the  •attention  from  certain  things,  in  order  to  fix  it  on 
others.  It  is  thus  a  peculiar  exercise  of  the  analytic  and 
selective  function  of  attention.  Thus  a  child  that  fixes 
its  eye  specially  and  exclusively  on  some  feature  of  an 
object,  as  the  brightness  of  a  candle-flame,  or  the  size  of  a 
large  apple,  is  in  a  manner  abstracting.*  In  its  higher 
meaning,  however,  abstraction  always  involves  the  turning 
away  of  the  mind  by  an  exercise  of  will  from  what  is  at- 
tracting it  at  the  moment.  Thus  the  diligent  student  is 
displaying  the  power  when  he  resolutely  withdraws  his 
thoughts  from  the  sights  and  sounds  of  his  surroundings 
and  fixes  them  on  some  subject  of  internal  reflection. 

The  way  in  which  abstraction  enters  into  conception 
is  in  the  turning  away  the  attention  from  the  individual 
differences  of  the  things  compared.  These  are  on  the 
surface  and  striking,  and  so  apt  to  engage  the  attention. 
Thus  a  child  finds  it  hard  to  fix  his  attention  on  the  com- 
mon aspects  of  tin,  lead,  brass,  etc.,  because  of  their  im- 
pressive differences  of  brightness  and  color.  Similarly,  he 
finds  it  difficult  to  direct  his  mental  eye  to  the  common 
property  in  a  variety  of  tools,  as  a  gimlet,  saw,  hammer, 
etc.  To  resist  the  attractions  of  the  individual  diversities, 
and  resolutely  turn  the  attention  in  the  direction  of  the 

*  See  Perez,  "  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood/  p.  189. 


CONCEPTION  AND  NAMING.  205 

less  potent  aspect  of  their  similarity,  involves  a  severe 
effort  of  will.  It  is  a  manifestation  of  the  highest  power 
of  voluntarily  concentrating  the  attention  in  any  direction 
desired. 

(C)  Generalization. — The  third  and  final  stage  of 
the  process  of  conception  is  generalization,  or  the  forma- 
tion of  a  class  of  objects.  By  discovering,  for  example, 
that  lead,  iron,  gold,  and  so  on,  have  certain  properties  in 
common,  the  child  mentally  places  them  together  in  a  class, 
viz.,  metals. 

In  so  doing,  the  child  is  generalizing.  The  class  is  in 
its  nature  general.  It  is  not  limited  to  the  several  objects 
examined,  which  are  only  particular  specimens  of  the  class. 
Nor  in  forming  the  class  does  the  mind  bring  together  and 
distinctly  realize  a  definite  number  of  things  in  a  collec 
tion,  as  a  class  of  children  in  a  school.  In  creating  a  class, 
metal,  the  little  discoverer  need  have  no  knowledge  as  to 
the  number  of  things  to  be  included  in  it.  He  has  simply 
invented  a  new  compartment,  into  which  he  is  prepared  to 
put  whatever  is  found  to  have  the  necessary  qualities. 

Conception  and  Naming. — This  process  of  forming 
concepts  is  completed  by  the  act  of  naming  the  things 
classed.  A  name  is  a  general  sign  or  symbol  which  can 
stand  for  any  one  of  an  indefinite  number  of  things.  With- 
out the  aid  of  such  a  sign  the  mind  could  not  arrange 
things  in  classes.  We  could  form  no  idea  of  man  or  ani- 
mal in  general  if  we  had  not  a  common  name  to  give  the 
things. 

The  name  has  a  twofold  function  and  use  in  connec- 
tion with  abstraction  and  generalization  :  (i)  It  helps  the 
mind  to  clearly  mark  off,  define,  and  indicate  the  qualities 
that  have  been  discovered  by  means  of  abstraction.  Thus, 
by  calling  iron,  lead,  etc.,  "  metal,"  we  clearly  separate 
out  the  common  qualities  and  fix  them  in  the  mind  for 
further  use.  (2)  The  name  is  the  bond  by  which  the  mind 
ties  together  the  several  members  of  the  class.     In  invent- 


2o6         ABSTRACTION  AND  CONCEPTION. 

ing  the  name  we  are  providing  ourselves  with  a  general 
mark  by  which  we  can  afterward  recognize  an  object  as  a 
member  of  a  particular  class. 

This  double  use  of  the  name  corresponds  to  the  two 
functions  which  logicians  attribute  to  names.  These  are 
known  as  (a)  the  denotation  or  extension  of  a  term,  and 
{b)  its  connotation  or  intension.  The  denotation  refers  to 
the  things  included  in  the  class,  and  to  which  the  name 
can  be  applied,  as  this,  that,  and  the  other  piece  of  iron, 
lead,  brass,  etc.  The  connotation  refers  to  the  qualities 
signified  by  the  name,  and  the  possession  of  which  is  neces- 
sary to  admission  to  the  class  or  compartment,  as  hard- 
ness, metallic  luster,  etc. 

From  this  account  of  the  concept  we  can  see  what  are 
its  chief  uses:  (i)  It  helps  us  to  retain  our  knowledge 
better,  by  allowing  us  to  bring  together  many  detached 
observations.  Thus  the  child  who  has  formed  the  notion 
of  a  class,  metal,  will  thereby  have  gathered  up  into  one 
comprehensive  whole  a  number  of  separate  and  scattered 
percepts.  (2)  It  is  necessary  to  the  orderly  arrangement 
of  our  observations.  By  classing  things  we  reduce  their 
perplexing  diversities  to  unity,  and  their  intricate  confusion 
to  order.  By  the  aid  of  our  concepts  we  refer  each  object 
as  it  presents  itself  to  its  proper  mental  compartment,  and 
so  master  and  comprehend  it.  (3)  It  prepares  the  way  for 
finding  out  the  general  laws  that  govern  things,  and  so  for 
explaining  what  we  see. 

In  order  that  these  ends  be  realized,  it  is  necessary  to 
connect  our  general  notions  with  particulars,  and  our 
names  with  the  things  for  which  they  stand.  The  concept 
is  a  name  which  stands  for  certain  qualities  in  real  objects, 
and  which  we  are  prepared  to  apply  to  any  one  of  these 
when  it  presents  itself.  It  ceases  to  have  any  meaning  and 
value  when  the  name  is  divorced  from  the  things  which  it 
is  intended  to  represent. 

Discovering  the  Meaning  of  Words. — In  this  ac- 


MARKING  OFF  SINGLE  QUALITIES.        207 

count  of  the  formation  of  concepts  we  have  supposed  that 
the  child  brings  objects  together  and  compares  them  on 
his  own  account  without  any  guidance  from  others.  And 
this  supposition  answers  to  what  actually  takes  place  in 
certain  cases.  Children  discover  resemblances  among 
things,  and  call  them  by  the  same  name  quite  spontane- 
ously and  without  any  suggestion  from  others.  At  the 
same  time,  it  is  obvious  that  the  greater  part  of  their  gen- 
eral ideas  are  formed  (in  part  at  least)  by  listening  to 
others  and  noting  the  way  in  which  they  employ  words. 
The  process  is  in  this  case  essentially  the  same  as  before. 
A  child  finds  out  the  meaning  of  a  word,  such  as  '^  animal," 
''gentleman,"  and  so  forth,  by  comparing  the  different  in- 
stances in  which  it  is  used,  abstracting  from  the  variable 
accompaniments,  and  fixing  the  attention  on  the  common 
or  essential  circumstance. 

Degrees  of  Abstraction.— Our  less  abstract  con- 
cepts  involve,  as  we  have  seen,  but  little  active  compari- 
son. In  arriving  at  the  ideas  of  cat,  house,  and  so  on,  the 
child  finds  no  difficulty  in  turning  away  from  differences. 
Resemblance  here  preponderates  over  difference,  and  the 
exercise  of  the  power  of  abstraction  is  slight.  It  is  only 
when  he  is  called  on  to  carry  the  process  of  abstraction 
further,  and  seek  out  more  widely  extended  points  of  simi- 
larity, that  a  serious  effort  is  required.  Thus,  in  finding 
out  what  is  common  among  dogs,  horses,  and  other  ani- 
mals, houses,  churches,  and  other  buildings,  the  child  needs 
to  concentrate  his  mind  closely,  and  turn  away  from  many 
and  striking  differences.  Speaking  roughly,  we  may  say 
that  the  wider  the  range  of  objects  compared  the  smaller 
will  be  the  amount  of  resemblance  among  them.  And  the 
more  dissimilarity  thus  preponderates  over  similarity  the 
greater  will  be  the  effort  of  abstraction  required. 

Marking  off  Single  Qualities. — A  higher  exercise 
of  abstraction  is  seen  in  the  singling  out  for  special  con- 
sideration of  some  one  of  the  common  qualities  of  objects. 


2o8         ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 

as  when  we  view  a  cannon-ball  as  round,  heavy,  and  so 
forth.  This  stage  of  abstraction  is  represented  by  the  use 
of  adjectives  or  qualifying  terms,  supplemented  by  what 
logicians  call  abstract  names,  as  weight,  figure,  etc.  Here 
the  process  of  breaking  up  or  analyzing  complex  percepts 
is  carried  to  a  still  further  point.  By  inspecting  and  com- 
paring things  in  this  more  abstract  way  our  knowledge 
gains  in  exactness.  Thus  the  child  that  can  separately 
attend  to  the  several  qualities  of  water,  as  its  fluidity, 
transparency,  etc.,  has  reduced  his  knowledge  of  the  sub- 
stance to  a  more  distinct  and  precise  form. 

Varieties  of  Concepts.— The  general  ideas  that  we 
form  are  as  various  as  the  things  we  observe  and  the  quali- 
ties they  exhibit.  Material  objects  present  a  number  of 
distinct  aspects  or  points  of  view,  each  of  which  may  be- 
come the  basis  of  a  generalization.  Thus  we  may  bring 
together  chairs,  tables,  and  so  on,  under  the  head  of  furni- 
ture ;  or,  looking  at  their  material  substance  merely,  we 
may  class  them  as  wooden  things.  An  orange  may  be  put 
into  as  many  classes  as  it  has  qualities,  as  a  round  or 
spherical  body,  a  colored  body,  a  vegetable  product,  and 
so  forth.  Again,  things  may  be  classed  in  their  bearing 
on  our  welfare,  as  useful  or  beneficial,  and  according  to 
their  beauty  or  picturesqueness. 

In  addition  to  material  things,  there  are  their  several 
movements,  as  falling,  rolling,  hopping,  etc.;  their  actions 
one  on  another,  such  as  striking,  bruising,  breaking ;  the 
changes  that  bodies  undergo,  as  expansion,  contraction, 
growth,  decay ;  and,  further,  the  sequences  of  natural 
events,  such  as  morning  and  noon,  spring  and  summer. 
All  these  changes  and  occurrences  present  certain  resem- 
blances in  the  midst  of  differences,  and  our  notions  of 
them  are  reached  by  a  process  of  abstraction. 

Notions  which  involve  Synthesis. — Many  of  our 
notions  involve,  in  addition  to  the  process  of  abstraction 
and  analysis  just  illustrated,  a  process  of  putting  together 


IDEAS  OF  MAGNITUDE  AND  NUMBER.    209 

the  results  of  abstraction  ia  new  combinations,  or  what  is 
known  as  synthesis.  This  is  illustrated  in  school  studies, 
as  history,  in  which  the  learner  has  to  build  up  out  of  the 
lesults  of  observation  and  abstraction  such  notions  as 
"Roman  emperor,"  "feudal  system,"  etc. 

In  many  instances  this  process  of  synthesis  is  based  on 
an  operation  of  constructive  imagination.  By  this  the 
mind  fashions  a  concrete  image,  which  gives  the  peculiar 
form  or  structure  to  the  concept.  In  this  way  a  boy  would 
build  up  an  idea  of  a  Roman  consul,  of  a  volcano,  and  so 
forth.  In  other  cases,  however,  this  basis  of  constructive 
imagination  is  wanting.  Conception  passes  beyond  the 
limits  of  distinct  visual  representation, 

(A)  Ideas  of  Magnitude  and  Number.—This  pro- 
cess of  transcending  the  limits  of  imagination  is  illustrated 
in  the  formation  of  ideas  of  all  objects  of  great  magnitude. 
Our  notion  of  city,  planet,  or  nation,  the  distance  from 
the  earth  to  the  sun,  and  so  forth,  does  not  correspond  to 
any  object  that  we  can  distinctly  see  and  picture.  Such 
ideas  are  the  vaguely  realized  results  of  a  process  of  add- 
ing together  or  multipl)dng  smaller  and  perceptible  magni- 
tudes, as  a  house,  a  ball,  a  crowd,  a  small  distance. 

This  process  is  most  clearly  illustrated  in  the  building 
up  of  the  ideas  of  all  the  larger  numbers.  In  the  case  of 
small  numbers,  as  3,  4,  5,  we  can  distinctly  perceive  a  dif- 
ference in  the  aggregate  of  objects  by  the  senses.  A  group 
of  3  objects  looks  different  from  one  of  4.  Hence,  the  first 
exercises  in  counting  set  out  with  concrete  visible  groups. 
Even  in  the  case  of  these  smaller  numbers,  however,  a 
process  of  composition  and  decomposition  (synthesis  and 
analysis)  is  necessarily  involved.  A  child  only  fully  ap- 
prehends what  5  things  are  when  he  has  taken  the  group 
apart,  and  can  produce  it  by  adding  unit  to  unit.  In  the 
case  of  the  larger  numbers,  such  as  20,  50,  100,  etc.,  this 
process  of  adding  or  summing  makes  up  the  whole  meaning 
of  the  number.     The  numeral  100  does  not  correspond  to 


210         ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION, 

a  visual  percept  or  an  image.  It  stands  as  a  symbol  foi 
the  result  of  a  process  of  summing  or  counting  performed 
on  units  (or  small  groups  of  these)  which  are  themselves 
sensible  objects,  and  so  picturable. 

(B)  Notions  of  Geometry,  etc.— This  synthetic 
activity  is  illustrated  in  a  somewhat  different  way  in  the 
formation  of  the  notions  of  geometry.  Our  idea  of  a 
mathematical  line,  a  circle,  and  so  forth,  does  not  exactly 
answer  to  any  observable  form.  No  straight  line,  for  in- 
stance, discoverable  in  any  actual  object,  perfectly  answers 
to  the  geometric  definition.  Even  the  most  carefully 
drawn  line  would  be  found,  on  closer  inspection,  to  devi- 
ate to  some  extent  from  the  required  type.  It  follows  that 
these  notions  involve  more  than  a  simple  process  of  ab- 
straction, such  as  suffices,  for  example,  for  the  detection 
of  the  quality  color,  or  weight.  They  presuppose,  in  ad- 
dition to  this,  a  process  of  idealization.  The  student  of 
geometry,  in  thinking  about  a  perfectly  straight  line,  has 
to  frame  a  conception  of  an  ideal  limit,  to  which  actual 
forms  only  roughly  approximate.  The  notion  thus  repre- 
sents, like  that  of  a  large  number,  the  result  of  a  prolonged 
mental  process  which  surpasses  the  limits  of  distinct  im- 
agination. Hence,  the  peculiar  difficulty  which  many  a 
beginner  at  the  science  experiences  in  attaching  any  reality 
and  meaning  to  these  forms  ;  and  hence,  too,  the  peculiar 
poetic  charm  of  the  science  to  many. 

It  is  much  the  same  with  the  notions  smooth  plane, 
perfect  fluid,  rigid  body,  etc.,  in  physics.  In  framing  these 
notions  the  student  is  called  on  to  modify,  perfect,  or  ideal- 
ize the  results  of  abstraction,  to  form  ideal  notions  which 
transcend  the  limits  of  distinct  imagination,  and  yet  which 
are  definite  enough  for  the  purposes  of  scientific  reason- 
ing. This  constitutes  one  of  the  main  difficulties  of  the 
science. 

The  distinction  between  notions  answering  to  pictures 
and  those  which  can  not  be  reduced  to  images  is  related 


MORAL  IDEAS:  IDEA   OF  SELF.  211 

to  the  distinction  drawn  by  logicians  between  symbolic 
and  intuitive  knowledge.  We  are  said  to  have  an  intuitive 
knowledge  of  the  number  3,  or  of  the  figure  triangle,  be- 
cause we  can  picture  them.  But  we  have  only  a  sym- 
bolic knowledge  of  the  number  1,000,  or  of  the  figure 
chiliagon  (one  of  a  thousand  sides).  Leibnitz,  who  empha- 
sized this  difference,  adds  that  intuitive  knowledge  is  more 
perfect  than  symbolic.  This  illustrates  the  importance  of 
the  function  of  imagination  in  relation  to  thought. 

Moral  Ideas :  Idea  of  Self.— By  a  process  of  ab- 
straction similar  to  that  whereby  the  child  learns  to  group 
external  objects  according  to  their  resemblances,  he  comes 
to  a  knowledge  of  the  inner  and  moral  world,  his  own 
mind  and  character.  His  idea  of  self  begins  with  the 
perception  of  his  own  organism,  as  the  object  in  which  he 
localizes  his  various  feelings  of  pleasure  and  pain.  Even 
this  partial  idea  is  slowly  acquired.  As  Prof.  Preyer  points 
out,  the  infant  does  not  at  first  know  his  own  organism  as 
something  related  to  his  feelings  of  pleasure  and  pain. 
When  more  than  a  year  old  his  boy  bit  his  own  arm  just 
as  though  it  had  been  a  foreign  object.*  This  crude  and 
material  form  of  self-consciousness  seems  to  correspond  to 
the  early  period  of  life,  in  which  the  child  speaks  of  him- 
self by  his  proper  name. 

As  the  power  of  abstraction  grows,  this  idea  of  self  be- 
comes fuller,  and  includes  the  representation  of  internal 
mental  states.  The  child  does  not  at  first  reflect  or  turn 
his  attention  inward  on  his  own  feelings.  He  is  glad  or 
sorrowful,  but  as  soon  as  the  momentary  feeling  is  over  he 
is  apt  to  forget  all  about  it.  His  attention  is  absorbed  in 
outward  things.  To  attend  to  the  facts  of  the  inner  life 
implies  an  effort,  an  active  withdrawal  of  the  mind  from 
the  outer  world.  This  only  occurs  later  on,  and  first  of 
all  in  connection  with  the  development  of  certain  feelings, 
as  love  of  approbation,  pride  in  displaying  his  prowess,  etc. 

*  '  Die  Seele  dcs  Kindes,"  p.  360. 
15 


212  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 

The  influence  of  others  is  an  important  factor  in  the 
growth  of  this  fuller  idea  of  self.  More  particularly  its 
development  would  be  promoted  by  the  experience  of 
moral  discipline  and  the  reception  of  blame  or  praise.  It 
is  when  the  child's  attention  is  driven  inward,  in  an  act  of 
reflection  on  his  own  actions  as  springing  from  good  or 
bad  motives,  that  he  wakes  up  to  a  fuller  consciousness  of 
self.  The  gradual  substitution  for  the  proper  name  of 
"  me,"  "  I,"  "  my,"  which  is  observable  in  the  third  year, 
probably  marks  the  date  of  a  more  distinct  reflection  on 
internal  feelings,  and  consequently  of  a  clearer  idea  of 
self  as  a  conscious  moral  being. 

A  further  process  of  abstraction  is  implied  in  arriving 
at  the  idea  of  a  permanent  self,  now  the  recipient  of  im- 
pressions from  without,  now  the  subject  of  feelings  of 
pleasure  and  pain,  hopes  and  fears,  and  now  the  cause  of 
outward  actions.  The  image  of  the  enduring  and  always 
present  object,  the  bodily  self,  undoubtedly  contributes 
an  important  element  to  this  idea.  But  this  supplies  only 
the  more  concrete  or  pictorial  part  of  the  representation. 
The  assurance  of  an  enduring  mental  self,  one  and  the 
same  through  all  the  changes  of  feeling,  involves  a  certain 
development  of  the  child's  memory,  and  the  power  of  real- 
izing that  he  has  had  a  past  and  a  continuous  history. 

The  highest  outcome  of  this  process  of  abstract  reflec- 
tion is  the  knowledge  of  self  as  having  definite  capabili- 
ties, intellectual  and  moral.  Such  an  abstract  idea  of  self 
presupposes  many  comparisons  of  states  of  mind,  feelings, 
actions,  etc.  Thus  a  child  builds  up  his  idea  of  himself 
as  susceptible  to  pain,  as  able  to  understand,  to  obey,  etc., 
by  bringing  together  many  of  his  past  experiences,  and 
seeing  what  is  common  to  these.^*^ 

Notions  of  Others.— In  close  connection  with  this 
development  of  self-knowledge  there  grows  up  the  knowl- 
edge of  other  conscious  beings.  It  is  probable  that  the 
child  is  instinctively  disposed  to  endow  with  conscious- 


CONCEPTION  AND  DISCRIMINATION.      213 

ness  any  external  object  which  resembles  himself  in  any 
way,  and  more  particularly  in  the  power  of  self-movement. 
But  this  personification  of  things  is  checked  by  the  growth 
of  knowledge  and  discriminative  power.  The  child  learns 
now  to  distinguish  between  inanimate  and  animate  objects, 
and  between  the  several  grades  of  the  latter.  When  this 
stage  is  reached,  he  is  in  a  position  to  form  more  accurate 
ideas  respecting  other  human  beings. 

The  knowledge  of  self  and  of  others  reacts  one  on  the 
other.  The  child  is  only  able  to  think  of  others,  e.  g.,  his 
mother  or  brother,  as  conscious  beings,  by  endowing  them 
with  feelings  analogous  to  what  he  has  observed  in  himself. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  observation  of  others  materially  aids 
in  the  development  of  a  fuller  and  more  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  self.  Thus,  by  seeing  what  another  child  can  do 
by  trying,  he  learns  more  of  his  own  powers  ;  by  witness- 
ing new  forms  of  suffering,  he  imaginatively  realizes  more 
of  his  own  capacity  to  suffer,  and  so  forth. 

By  comparing  different  actions  of  the  same  person 
and  actions  of  different  persons,  the  child  learns  to  group 
them  in  classes,  as  kind,  wise,  good  people  ;  and  in  this 
way  his  ideas  of  others  grow  more  distinct.  By  a  higher 
exercise  of  the  power  of  abstraction  he  is  now  able  to 
mentally  place  each  individual  of  his  acquaintance  in  some 
definite  compartment  or  category,  according  to  the  particu- 
lar qualities  which  he  displays. 

Conception  and  Discrimination.— The  formation  of 
concepts  involves,  as  its  main  factor,  the  function  of  as- 
similation in  its  higher  form  of  detecting  resemblances  in 
the  midst  of  differences.  At  the  same  time,  the  other 
great  intellectual  function,  discrimination,  is  also  exercised 
in  the  process.  In  classing  things,  the  mind  always  refers 
more  or  less  explicitly  to  differences.  In  forming  the  con- 
cept animal,  for  example,  we  are  not  only  connecting  many 
unlike  things  on  the  ground  of  their  resemblances  (animal 
structure  and  functions),  but  are  marking  these  off  from 


214         ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION, 

other  things  lacking  these  points  of  similarity  (plants  and 
inanimate  objects).  When  we  think  of  European  we  are 
tacitly  referring  to  non-Europeans  (Asiatics,  etc.).  Indeed, 
we  can  not  constitute  a  class  by  the  presence  of  certain 
marks  without  at  the  same  time  drawing  a  line  about  it  or 
limiting  it,  and  so  implicitly  distinguishing  it  from  other 
things  wanting  these  marks.  In  all  cases  where  there  are 
well-marked  contraries  or  opposites,  as  heavy — light,  sweet 
— bitter,  good — bad,  and  so  on,  this  process  of  discrimina- 
tion becomes  more  explicit.  To  bring  an  object  under 
tne  class  of  light  bodies  is  to  set  it  over  against  the  class  of 
heavy  ones. 

Classification. — The  orderly,  systematic  review  of  the 
agreements  and  the  differences  among  things  leads  to  what 
is  called  classification.  To  classify  things  is  to  view  them 
in  such  a  way  that  their  different  degrees  of  resemblance 
and  difference  may  be  clearly  exhibited.  This  takes 
place  by  proceeding  through  a  series  of  gradations  from 
notions  of  a  low  degree  of  generality  to  those  of  a  higher 
degree.  Thus,  supposing  we  have  the  concepts  *'plow," 
"spade,"  and  so  forth,  we  may  group  them  under  a  more 
general  head,  "agricultural  implements."  With  these  we 
may  take  other  things,  such  as  carpenters'  "  tools,"  "  sur- 
gical instruments,"  "machines,"  etc.,  and  bring  them 
under  a  still  more  general  head,  "  instruments  of  labor." 
Any  lower  class  is  called,  in  relation  to  the  higher  class 
under  which  it  is  brought,  a  species  ;  and  the  higher  class 
is  called,  in  relation  to  the  lower,  a  genus.  In  each  step  of 
this  process  we  are  co-ordinating^  or  placing  side  by  side, 
certain  lower  classes  or  species,  marked  off  from  one  an- 
other by  particular  qualities  (e.  g.,  surgical  and  agricult- 
ural use),  and  subordinating  them  under  a  larger  class  or 
genus. 

In  this  upward  movement  of  thought  from  smaller  to 
larger  classes,  or  species  to  genera,  we  continually  discard 
differences  (e.  g.,  surgical,  agricultural  use)  and  bring  into 


CLASSIFICATION,  215 

view  a  wider  similarity  (e.  g.,  quality  of  being  an  aid  to 
labor  of  some  sort).  But  we  may  set  out  with  a  large 
class,  and  by  a  downward  movement  break  it  up  into 
successively  smaller  classes.  For  instance,  given  the  class 
plane  figure,  we  may  break  it  up  into  rectilinear  and  cur- 
vilinear ;  each  of  these  classas,  again,  may  be  further 
broken  up  into  sub-varieties.  Thus  the  rectilinear  figures 
may  be  separated  into  three-sided  figures,  four-sided,  and 
so  on.  This  downward  movement  from  the  general  to 
the  particular  is  known  as  division.  It  proceeds  not  by 
a  gradual  elimination  of  differences,  but  by  a  gradual  ad- 
dition of  them  by  a  process  of  qualification,  or  what  is 
called  by  logicians  "  determination."  Thus  the  notion 
figure  is  further  determined  by  the  addition  of  the  qualifi- 
cation rectilinear ;  this  again  by  the  addition  of  three- 
sided,  and  so  on.  In  this  way  the  differences  among 
things,  as  well  as  their  resemblances,  are  clearly  brought 
into  vievv.^^ 

The  most  elaborate  examples  of  this  orderly  arrange- 
ment of  things  is  seen  in  the  classifications  of  natural  his- 
tory, mineralogy,  zoology,  and  botany.  But  any  general 
notion  may  thus  be  connected  with  other  cognate  or  allied 
notions,  and  so  the  germ  of  a  classification  obtained.  In 
this  way  we  bring  together  the  classes  house,  church,  etc., 
under  the  genus  building ;  or,  to  illustrate  the  reverse 
process,  we  divide  the  class  book  into  sub-classes  accord- 
ing to  its  purpose  (amusing,  instructive)  or  size  (octavo, 
etc.).  Even  the  notions  corresponding  to  abstract  names 
admit  of  this  orderly  treatment.  For  example,  we  can 
classify  the  several  sorts  of  color,  movement,  human 
action,  virtue,  and  so  forth.  By  thus  arranging  things  in 
a  systematic  way,  and  so  bringing  into  light  their  simi- 
larities and  their  differences,  we  prepare  the  way  for  a 
systematic  inquiry  into  their  unknown  properties  and  the 
laws  that  govern  them. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

ABSTRACTION    AND    CONCEPTION    (continued). 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  examined  into  the  nature 
of  the  process  of  abstraction  and  its  results  in  what  is 
known  as  the  concept.  In  the  present  chapter  we  shall 
consider  the  natural  defects  of  our  notions,  and  the  best 
way  to  correct  them. 

Imperfection  and  Perfection  of  Notions. — Our 
every-day  notions  are  apt  to  be  defective  in  a  number  of 
ways.  It  is  easier  for  the  mind  to  become  indistinct  in  its 
notions  than  in  its  percepts  or  its  images.  This  special 
liability  of  concepts  to  grow  indistinct  is  connected  with 
the  very  nature  of  the  conceptual  process,  and  with 
the  fact  that  its  results  are  embodied  in  language.  It  is 
possible  to  use  words  for  every-day  purposes  with  only  a 
very  rough  notion  of  their  purport.  Many  of  the  opera- 
tions of  reasoning  can  be  carried  on  with  only  a  moment- 
ary glance  at  the  meaning  of  the  terms  employed.  Hence 
the  wide  opening  for  vague  concepts. 

Distinctness  of  Concepts.— By  a  distinct,  clear,  or 
well-defined  concept  is  meant  one  in  which  the  several 
features  or  characters  of  the  objects  thought  about  are 
distinctly  represented.  Thus  a  boy  has  a  distinct  idea  of 
coal  when  he  clearly  distinguishes  and  grasps  together  as 
a  whole  its  several  qualities,  as  its  black  color,  its  frangi- 
bility,  combustibility,  etc.  On  the  other  hand,  an  idea  is 
indistinct,  hazy,  or  ill-defined  when  the  constituent  quali- 
ties of  the  objects  are  not  thus  distinctly  represented. 


INDISTINCTNESS  OF  CONCEPTS.  217 

Closely  connected  with  the  distinctness  of  a  concept, 
as  just  defined,  is  its  distinctness  with  respect  to  other  con- 
cepts. By  this  is  meant  that  the  idea  is  carefully  distin- 
guished from  other  and  partially  similar  concepts.  Thus 
we  have  a  distinct  idea  of  a  nut  when  we  distinguish  the 
group  of  characters  constituting  it  from  those  of  an  ordi- 
nary fruit ;  of  a  planet,  when  we  distinguish  the  characters 
from  those  of  a  fixed  star,  etc.  On  the  other  hand,  a  con- 
cept is  indistinct  when  it  is  apt  to  be  confused  with  a  kin- 
dred concept.  Thus  a  boy  studying  history  has  confused 
notions  when  he  does  not  discriminate  an  aggressive  from 
a  defensive  war,  a  limited  from  an  absolute  monarchy,  and 
so  forth. 

We  can  best  test  the  distinctness  of  a  concept  by  our 
facility  in  applying  the  name  or  recognizing  a  member  of 
the  class  when  it  presents  itself.  In  general  all  want  of 
distinctness,  whether  of  the  first  or  second  kind,  must  tend 
to  interfere  with  a  prompt  and  accurate  naming  of  objects. 
Want  of  distinctness  in  the  connotation  leads  to  want  of 
certainty  with  respect  to  the  denotation.  At  the  same 
time,  we  are  often  able  to  name  things  readily  when  our 
concepts  are  far  from  being  perfectly  distinct.  Thus  an 
ordinary  child  will  at  once  recognize  a  fruit,  and  yet  be 
unable  perhaps  to  say  what  the  constituent  fruit-marks  are. 
This  suggests  that  a  concept  may  be  distinct  in  the  second 
sense  without  being  so  in  the  same  degree  in  the  first.  The 
cluster  of  marks  is  represented  with  sujfficient  distinctness 
for  keeping  the  name  apart  from  other  names,  and  for  ap- 
plying it  roughly  to  the  objects  we  meet  with  ;  but  there 
is  no  careful  analysis  of  these  characters. 

Causes  of  Indistinctness  of  Concepts.— The  im- 
perfections just  spoken  of  may  arise  from  either  of  the 
causes  stated  above.  Many  notions  are  indistinct  from 
the  first  because  the  percepts  and  images  are  so,  or  be- 
cause the  process  of  abstraction  has  never  been  carried 
far  enough  to  bring  into  distinct  relief  the  common  char- 


2i8  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 

acters  of  a  class  of  things.  This  last  remark  applies  with 
special  force  to  the  notions  of  the  young  and  uneducated, 
who  can  in  most  cases  distinguish  the  more  familiar  classes 
of  objects,  such  as  oak,  tree,  church,  and  so  on,  but  who 
have  not  carefully  reflected  on  the  contents  of  their 
notions. 

But,  again,  our  notions  are  apt  to  become  indistinct  (in 
both  senses)  from  the  lapse  of  time  and  the  imperfections 
of  memory.  The  concept  grows  out  of  images  of  real 
things,  and  if  our  images  fade  from  memory  our  notions 
necessarily  grow  hazy.  A  boy  that  is  always  forgetting 
the  concrete  illustrations  of  class-names,  as  water-shed, 
Roman  consul,  transitive  verb,  and  so  on,  is  sure  to  lapse 
into  vague  ideas  of  these  classes. 

Finally,  there  are  certain  features  of  language  which 
promote  indistinctness,  especially  in  early  life.  The  fact 
that  the  child  is  hearing  a  highly  developed  language 
spoken  about  him,  which  embodies  the  finer  distinctions 
of  mature  intelligence,  must  tend  to  bewilder  his  mind  at 
first.  He  finds  it  hard  to  distinguish  between  closely 
related  and  overlapping  words,  "  healthy  "  and  "  strong," 
"sensible  "  and  "clever,"  and  so  forth.  And  then  there 
is  a  more  serious  source  of  perplexity  of  an  opposite  kind, 
viz.,  that  arising  from  the  imperfections  of  language,  and 
more  particularly  the  ambiguities  of  words.  Such  ambi- 
guities, by  hiding  a  variety  of  meanings  under  one  word 
(e.  g.,  pietty,  as  nice-looking  and  as  moderately),  tend  to 
baffle  the  child  in  trying  to  discriminate  one  idea  from 
another.  This  mischief  is  of  course  greater  where  words 
are  used  loosely  by  others.  A  mother,  for  example,  that 
does  not  distinguish  between  mere  inadvertence  and  cul- 
pable carelessness,  and  the  teacher  that  is  apt  in  his  im- 
patience to  call  mere  ignorance  and  intellectual  slovenli- 
ness by  the  same  name,  adds  seriously  to  the  difficulties  of 
the  young  student  of  language. 

Accuracy  of  Concepts. — We  have  to  distinguish 


INACCURACY  OF  CONCEPTION,  219 

between  the  mere  indistinctness  of  a  concept  and  its  posi- 
tive inaccuracy.  A  distinct  notion  depends  on  our  clearly- 
representing  the  marks  we  take  up  into  our  notion :  an 
accurate  notion  depends  on  our  taking  up  the  right  ele- 
ments, i.  e.,  the  common  characters  of  the  class,  and  no 
others.  Or,  to  express  the  same  thing  in  different  lan- 
guage, an  accurate  concept  is  such  that  the  name  in  which 
it  is  embodied  will  cover  all  the  things  commonly  denoted 
by  that  name,  and  no  others. 

Inaccuracy  of  conception,  like  mere  indistinctness, 
may  arise  either  through  an  imperfect  performance  of  the 
initial  processes  of  comparison  and  abstraction,  including 
the  discrimination  of  one  group  of  things  from  another,  or 
through  a  subsequent  process  of  decay  or  disintegration 
of  the  concept. 

(A)  Inaccurate  Notions  depending  on  Imperfect 
Abstraction. — To  begin  with,  then,  a  notion  may  be 
inaccurate  because  the  process  of  abstraction  or  notion- 
formation  is  incomplete.  The  first  notions  of  all  of  us  are 
loose  and  inexact,  answering  to  a  rough  and  hasty  process 
of  inspecting  the  objects.  Owing  to  these  imperfections, 
the  notions  are  inaccurate  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  range  of  the 
name  is  not  co-extensive  with  that  of  the  things  commonly 
or  properly  denoted  by  it.  In  this  way  our  class,  or  the 
denotation  of  our  name,  becomes  too  narrow  or  too  wide. 

In  the  first  place,  a  notion  may  be  formed  on  too  nar- 
row an  observation  of  things,  the  consequence  of  which  is 
that  accidental  features  not  shared  in  by  all  members  of 
the  class  are  taken  up  into  the  meaning  of  the  word  as  a 
part  of  its  essential  import.  For  example,  a  child  that  has 
only  seen  red  roses  is  apt  to  regard  redness  as  a  part  of 
the  meaning  of  rose  ;  and  one  whose  knowledge  of  metals 
includes  only  the  more  familiar  examples,  iron,  etc.,  nat- 
urally includes  hardness  and  solidity  in  his  idea  of  the 
class,  which  would  thus  exclude  quicksilver.  We  are  all 
apt  to  take  up  into  our  notions  the  accidental  associations 


220  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 

of  our  individual  experience,  the  place  and  time  in  which 
we  live.  Thus  man  to  an  English  child  includes  the 
notion  of  a  white  skin,  government  that  of  a  sovereign, 
and  so  on.     Such  notions  are  too  narrow. 

In  the  second  place,  a  notion  may  be  inaccurate  by 
giving  the  class  too  wide  an  extent.  If  the  mind's  obser- 
vation of  things  is  superficial  and  hasty,  only  a  part  of  the 
common  traits  or  marks,  viz.,  those  which  are  conspicuous 
and  impressive,  are  embodied  in  the  name.  The  notions 
of  children  and  of  the  uneducated  are  apt  to  be  too  wide. 
They  pick  up  a  part,  but  only  a  part,  of  the  significance 
of  the  words  they  hear  employed.  Thus  they  observe 
among  different  creatures  called  "  fish  "  the  conspicuous  cir- 
cumstance that  they  live  in  the  water ;  and  so  they  make 
this  the  whole  meaning  of  the  word,  and  are  ready  to  call 
a  porpoise  or  a  seal  a  fish.  In  a  similar  way  a  child  will 
call  all  meals  "tea,"  overlooking  the  fact  that  "tea"  is  a 
more  special  name  than  "  meal,"  pointing  to  a  particular 
hour  of  the  day. 

(B)  Inaccurate  Notions  depending  on  Loss  of 
Elements. — While  notions  may  thus  be  inaccurate  at  the 
outset,  owing  to  defective  observation,  they  tend  still  fur- 
ther to  become  so  by  the  lapse  of  time  and  the  gradual 
obliteration  of  some  of  their  elements.  Every  successive 
loss  of  such  elements  involves  a  growing  divergence  be- 
tween the  name  and  the  things  denoted.  In  other  words, 
the  concept  grows  too  wide.  As  names  are  emptied  of 
their  full  significance  they  thus  become  too  inclusive. 
Thus  a  child  that  forgets  that  "  unkind  "  implies  an  inten- 
tion to  hurt  another  will  call  its  playmates  or  its  mother 
unkind  where  there  has  been  no  such  intention.  The 
converse  error,  too,  of  allowing  accidental  accompaniments 
to  insinuate  themselves  into,  and  blend  with,  the  notion, 
is  not  uncommon.  Thus,  as  Waitz  observes,  a  boy,  after 
having  been  taught  that  the  size  of  an  angle  is  independ- 
ent of  the  length  of  the  lines  that  form  or  inclose  it,  easily 


ON  REVISING  OUR  NOTIONS,  22 1 

lapses  into  the  error  of  embodying  this  accidental  element 
in  his  notion  of  angular  magnitude. 

It  is  only  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  that  indis- 
tinctness of  conception  is  closely  related,  and  commonly 
leads  on,  to  inaccuracy.  Where  our  ideas  of  things  are 
hazy,  there  is  a  peculiar  danger  of  dropping  essential  ele- 
ments and  of  taking  up  accidental  ones,  and  so  of  making 
our  classes  too  wide  or  too  narrow.  Not  only  so,  such 
indistinctness  is  highly  favorable  to  confusing  ideas  one 
with  another  and  substituting  for  the  proper  meaning  of  a 
term  that  of  some  kindred  term. 

On  Revising  our  Notions.— It  follows  from  the 
above  that  the  formation  of  a  perfect  concept  includes  not 
one  process  of  comparison  and  abstraction  only,  but  a  suc- 
cession of  such  processes,  by  the  aid  of  which  the  first 
rough  draughts  of  our  ideas  are  improved,  and  also  the 
tendencies  in  words  to  lose  their  significance  counteracted. 
Defective  conception  at  the  outset  can  only  be  made  good 
by  more  searching  inspection  of  the  things  submitted  to 
examination,  and  also  by  a  wider  and  more  varied  observa- 
tion of  objects  in  their  similarities  and  dissimilarities. 

Not  only  so,  even  when  the  concepts  have  been  prop- 
erly formed,  they  can  only  be  kept  distinct,  and  conse- 
quently accurate,  by  going  back  again  and  again  to  the 
concrete  objects  out  of  which  they  have  in  a  manner  been 
extracted.  Only  when  we  do  this  shall  we  avoid  the  error 
of  taking  empty  names  for  realities,  and  keep  our  repre- 
sentations fresh  and  vivid.  If  the  educator  wants  to  avoid 
that  divorce  of  words  from  things  against  which  Comenius 
protested,  he  must  continually  revivify  the  notions  of  his 
pupils  by  reverting  to  concrete  illustrations. 

Relation  of  Conception  to  Imagination,— The 
above  remarks  help  to  bring  out  still  more  distinctly  the  re- 
lation between  imagination  and  thought.  As  we  have  seen, 
a  notion  differs  from  an  image  in  that  it  contains  a  repre- 
sentation of  common  features  only,  and  not  of  individual 


222  ABSTRACTION  AND  CONCEPTION. 

peculiarities.  When  words  tend  strongly  to  call  up  images 
of  particular  concrete  objects,  the  processes  of  thought  are 
obstructed.  The  highly  imaginative  mind  which  instantly 
reduces  a  word  to  some  concrete  instance  is  heavily  handi- 
capped in  following  out  trains  of  abstract  thought.*  The 
many  interesting  accompaniments  of  the  individual  things 
interfere  with  the  grasping  of  their  general  aspects. 

At  the  same  time,  notions  are  formed  out  of  images. 
Thinking  is  thus  based  on  imagination  (both  reproductive 
and  constructive).  The  meaning  or  content  of  a  word  is 
wholly  derived  from  the  inspection  of  concrete  things. 
Hence,  a  notion,  in  order  to  have  substance  in  it  and  to 
be  well-defined  in  shape,  must  be  continually  supported 
by  images.  In  order  to  think  clearly,  a  child  must  be  able 
to  imagine  distinctly,  to  call  up  as  occasion  requires  indi- 
vidual members  of  the  class. 

On  Defining  Notions. — Our  notions  are  rendered 
distinct  and  accurate  not  merely  by  going  back  to  con- 
crete facts  or  examples,  but  by  a  number  of  supplementary 
processes,  which  may  be  grouped  under  the  head  of  defini- 
tion. To  define  a  word  in  the  logical  sense  is  to  unfold 
its  connotation,  to  enumerate  more  or  less  completely  the 
several  characters  or  attributes  which  make  up  its  mean- 
ing. As  we  have  seen,  we  form  many  concepts,  such  as 
"metal,"  "man,"  "civilized  country,"  before  we  are  able 
to  represent  distinctly  the  several  attributes  included  in 
the  connotation  of  words.  It  is  only  when  the  mind's 
power  of  abstraction  increases  that  this  higher  stage  of 

*  This  is,  of  course,  generally  the  case  with  the  young  and  the  un- 
educated. The  narrowness  of  their  experience,  and  the  feebleness  of 
their  powers  of  abstraction,  cause  words  to  be  pictorial,  descriptive  of 
concrete  individuals  rather  than  symbolically  representative  of  classes. 
This  tendency  is  amusingly  illustrated  by  Mr.  Galton.  Some  one 
began  narrating,  "  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  a  boat."  A  ydung  lady 
of  an  imaginative  turn,  being  asked  what  the  word  "boat"  called  up, 
answered,  "A  rather  large  boat,  pushing  off  from  the  shore,  full  of 
ladies  and  gentlemen."     ("Inquiries  into  Human  Faculty,"  p.  no.) 


DISCRIMINA 1  ION  OF  NO  TIONS,  223 

analysis  becomes  possible.  When  this  has  been  carried 
out,  the  mind  will  be  able  to  retain  the  essentials  of  the 
concept  by  means  of  the  verbal  definition.  When,  for  ex- 
ample, the  child  has  learned  that  glass  is  a  transparent  sub- 
stance, composed  of  certain  materials,  brittle,  easily  fused 
by  heat,  a  bad  conductor  of  heat,  and  so  on,  the  string  of 
properties  stored  up  by  aid  of  the  verbal  memory  will  serve 
to  give  distinctness  to  the  concept. 

A  second  and  subordinate  part  of  this  process  of  defini- 
tion of  names  consists  in  the  discrimination  of  the  notion 
from  other  notions.  The  precise  meaning  of  a  word  is 
only  brought  out  by  setting  the  notion  over  against  its  op- 
posite or  contrast,  and  by  discriminating  it  from  nearly 
allied  notions.  Thus,  for  example,  the  notion  "  wise  "  is 
elucidated  by  contrasting  it  with  "foolish,"  and  further 
by  distinguishing  it  from  allied  notions,  as  "learned." 
Clear  thinking  implies  a  habit  of  distinguishing  words  and 
their  meanings  carefully  one  from  another.  Similarly, 
"  rude  "  should  be  contrasted  with  "polite,"  and  "distin- 
guished "  from  "  uncouth  "  or  "  awkward  ;"  "brave  "  con- 
trasted with  "cowardly,"  and  "discriminated"  from  "fool- 
hardy." 

Finally,  our  notions  may  be  defined  or  rendered  more 
sharp  in  outline  by  a  reference  to  a  classification  of  things. 
Logicians  say  that  the  best  way  to  define  a  class  name 
(especially  when  the  qualities  are  too  numerous,  and  many 
of  them  too  imperfectly  known,  for  us  to  enumerate  them 
completely)  is  to  name  the  higher  class,  or  "  genus,"  and 
add  the  "difference,"  that  is,  the  leading  features  which 
mark  off  the  class  from  co-ordinate  classes.  Thus  we  may 
define  a  parallelogram  by  saying  that  it  is  a  four-sided  fig- 
ure (higher  class),  having  its  opposite  sides  parallel  (dif- 
ference). Such  a  definition  serves  to  fix  in  the  mind  some 
of  the  more  important  marks  of  the  objects,  and  to  keep 
the  concept  distinct  from  other  concepts  (e.  g.,  those  of 
other  four-sided  figures). 


224  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 

Not  only  so,  the  practice  of  dividing  a  term,  or  point- 
ing out  the  several  smaller  classes  composing  the  class, 
serves  to  clear  up  or  defme  our  notions.  Since  a  concept 
is  formed  by  means  of  an  inspection  of  things,  an  occa- 
sional reference  to  the  whole  extent  of  things  covered  by 
a  name  helps  to  give  reality  and  body  to  the  concept. 
Thus,  in  teaching  a  child  the  meaning  of  a  term  like  metal, 
it  is  well  to  connect  it  in  his  mind  with  all  the  principal  or 
more  familiar  varieties.  In  fact,  the  two  processes  here 
touched  on,  bringing  out  the  connotation  (logical  "  defini- 
tion ")  and  exposing  the  denotation  (logical  "  division  "), 
are  mutually  complementary,  i^;, 

Growth  of  Conceptual  Power.— The  power  by 
which  the  mind  frames  general  notions  is  merely  an  ex- 
pansion of  powers  which  show  themselves  in  a  rudiment- 
ary form  in  the  earlier  processes  of  perception.  Thus  the 
powers  of  comparison  and  of  abstraction  in  its  wide  sense 
are  developed,  in  connection  with  the  process  of  percep- 
tion itself,  in  carrying  out  those  detailed  operations  of 
examining  objects  of  sense  on  all  sides  which  are  involved 
in  the  formation  of  clear  percepts.  Again,  the  power  of 
seizing  similarity  in  the  midst  of  diversity,  which  is  the 
essential  process  in  building  up  notions  of  classes  and  the 
qualities  of  things,  manifests  itself  in  a  lower  form  in  the 
first  year  of  life.  To  recognize  the  mother's  voice,  for 
example,  as  one  and  the  same  through  all  the  changes  of 
loudness  and  softness  and  all  the  variations  of  pitch,  or 
her  figure  through  all  the  changes  of  light,  distance,  and 
position,  clearly  implies  a  certain  rudimentary  power  of 
comparing  unlike  impressions  and  detecting  likeness  amid 
this  unlikeness. 

Early  Notions. — The  gradual  development  of  the 
power  of  comparing  objects  and  comprehending  them  in 
classes  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  phases  in  the  mental 
history  of  the  individual.  By  a  careful  observation  of 
children  at  the  time  when  they  begin  to  understand  and 


GROWTH  OF  CONCEPTION.  225 

use  words,  we  may  learn  much  as  to  the  way  in  which  this 
power  spontaneously  develops.  More  particularly,  it  is  in- 
structive to  watch  the  way  in  which  children  about  a  year 
or  fifteen  months  old  invent  names  of  their  own,  and  spon- 
taneously extend  the  words  they  learn  from  others  to  ana- 
logical cases. 

As  might  be  expected,  the  first  notions  which  children 
form  correspond  to  narrow  classes  of  objects  having  a 
number  of  striking  points  of  resemblances  ;  and,  further,  to 
those  varieties  of  things  which  have  a  special  interest  for 
the  young  learners.  Thus  a  child  readily  connects  by  one 
name  particular  varieties  of  food,  as  milk  and  pudding. 
In  like  manner  he  soon  learns  to  assimilate  certain  classes 
of  toy,  as  doll,  picture-book,  and  other  objects  having 
well-marked  resemblances,  as  hat  and  clock,  etc.  For  the 
same  reason,  he  at  once  extends  terms,  as  "  puss,"  **  papa," 
which  have  first  been  applied  to  definite  individuals,  to 
other  individuals,  on  the  ground  of  numerous  and  promi- 
nent similarities. 

Growth  of  Conception  and  of  Discrimination.— 
It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  child's  concepts  grow  in  clear- 
ness and  definiteness  with  the  power  of  noting  differences 
as  well  as  likenesses.*  At  first  there  seems  to  be  no  clear 
discrimination  of  classes  from  individuals.  The  name  is 
used  for  a  number  of  objects  as  seen  to  be  alike,  but,  so 
far  as  we  can  see,  without  any  clear  apprehension  whether 
they  are  the  same  thing  or  different  things.  This  is  prob- 
ably true  of  the  extension  of  the  word  "  papa  "  to  other  men 
besides  the  father.  The  concept  becomes  definite  just  in 
proportion  as  differences  are  recognized  and  the  images  of 
individual  objects,  this  and  that  person,  this  and  that  dog, 
and  so  on,  acquire  separateness  in  the  mind.  This  same 
circumstance  explains  another  fact,  namely,  that  the  child 

*  M.  Perez  says  that  children  of  about  fifteen  months,  though 
eagerly  on  the  lookout  for  resemblances,  are  very  little  so  for  differ- 
ences.    (*'  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p,  195.) 


226  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 

often  uses  the  names  of  genera  (if  not  too  large  classes) 
before  those  of  species.  Thus  he  lumps  together  animals 
resembling  dogs,  as  goats,  under  the  name  ''bow-wow." 
In  like  manner  he  will  apply  a  word  like  "  apple  "  to  fruit 
generally,  or  a  certain  wide  group  of  fruits,  as  "  apple," 
'"pear,"  "orange,"  etc.  Similarly,  he  will  understand  in  a 
rough  way  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  flower  "  before  he 
comprehends  the  names  "  daisy  "  or  *'  rose." 

Formation  of  more  Abstract  Conceptions. — A 
higher  step  is  taken  when  the  child  forms  classes  founded 
on  a  single  property.  The  first  examples  of  this  higher 
power  of  abstraction  have  to  do  with  aspects  of  objects  of 
great  interest  to  him.  He  first  displays  a  considerable 
power  of  generalization  in  grouping  together  edible  things. 
Mr.  Darwin,  in  his  interesting  account  of  the  early  devel- 
opment of  one  of  his  children,  tells  us  that  when  just  a 
year  old  he  invented  the  word  "mum  "  to  denote  different 
kinds  of  food.  He  then  went  on  to  distinguish  varieties 
of  food  by  some  qualifying  adjunct.  Thus  sugar  was 
"  shu-mum."  *  Attention  to  common  visual  features  comes 
later.  A  little  boy  known  to  the  present  writer,  when  in 
his  eighteenth  month,  extended  the  word  "  ball "  to  bub- 
bles which  he  noticed  on  the  surface  of  a  glass  of  beer. 
This  implied  the  power  of  abstracting  from  color  and  size 
and  attending  to  the  globular  form. 

As  experience  widens  and  the  power  of  abstraction 
strengthens,  less  conspicuous  and  more  subtile  points  of 
agreement  are  seized.  Children  often  perplex  their  elders 
with  their  use  of  words  just  because  the  latter  can  not 
seize  the  analogy  between  things  or  events  which  the 
young  mind  detects.f      By  degrees  the  young  mind  ad- 

*  See  his  article,  "  Biographical  Sketch  of  an  Infant,"  in  "  Mind," 
July,  1877  (vol.  ii) ;  cf.  M.  Taine's  account  of  a  little  girl's  firet  gen- 
eralization of  sweet  things  under  the  name  "  cola  "  (chocolate)  in  the 
same  volume  of  *'  Mind,"  p.  256.  See  also  M.  Taine's  work,  "On  In- 
telligence," vol.  ii,  book  iv,  chap,  i,  §  i.  par.  ii. 

f  For  example,  a  child  of  two  and  a  half  years,  seeing  a  number  of 


PROGRESS  OF  DISCRIMINATION. 


22y 


vances  to  the  formation  of  more  abstract  ideas.  One  of 
the  earliest  of  these  is  that  of  disappearance,  or  the  state 
of  being  absent,  commonly  expressed  by  the  sign  "  ta-ta  " 
or  some  similar  expression.* 

Use  of  Adjectives. — A  distinct  progress  in  the 
child's  power  of  abstraction  is  seen  when  objects  come  to 
be  qualified  by  the  use  of  adjectives.  A  child  will,  from 
the  first  stage  of  speech,  pick  up  and  use  a  few  adjectives, 
such  as  "  hot  "  and  "  nice,"  which  answer  to  simple  sensa- 
tions of  very  great  interest  to  him.  A  more  difficult 
achievement  is  seizing  the  meaning  of  a  relative  term,  such 
as  "  big."  The  boy  already  referred  to  first  employed  this 
word  when  he  was  nearly  twenty-two  months  old.  See- 
ing a  rook  flying  over  his  head,  he  called  out,  "  Big  bird."^' 

Among  these  more  abstract  conceptions  reached  in 
this  early  period  of  life,  those  of  number  and  time  deserve 
a  passing  notice.  Prof.  Preyer  says  that  his  boy  in  his 
twenty-sixth  month  had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  number. 
Another  boy,  already  referred  to,  when  twenty-two  months 
old,  distinguished  one  object  from  a  plurality  of  objects, 
and  this  was  long  before  he  could  distinguish  two  from 
three,  and  so  on.  He  called  any  number  of  objects  (be- 
sides one)  ''  two,  three,  four,"  according  to  the  formula 
taught  him  by  his  mother.  When  three  and  a  half  years  old, 
the  same  child  still  confused  number  with  size.  Thus,  on 
seeing  beads  of  three  sides,  he  called  the  smallest  "four," 
the  next  "  five,"  and  the  largest "  six."  f    In  Hke  manner  this 

fowls  perched  in  a  row  on  a  fence,  said,  "  They  are  having  tea."  He 
had  associated  the  idea  of  sitting  in  a  row  with  sitting  up  at  table. 

*  Prof.  Preyer  ("Die  Seele  des  Kindes,"  p.  295)  says  his  boy 
reached  this  notion  of  disappearance  by  the  fifteenth  month.  The 
boy  known  to  the  writer  certainly  used  the  sound  ta-ta  ox  d  b  (all  gone) 
for  signifying  the  disappearance  as  well  as  the  absence  of  a  thing  when 
he  was  sixteen  months  old. 

f  This  answers  to  the  fact  that  many  savage  races  can  not  count 
above  five,  i.  e.,  beyond  the  point  at  which  differences  of  number  are 
plainly  apparent  to  the  eye.  The  lower  animals  seem  to  have  only  the 
16 


228  ABSTRACTION  AND  CONCEPTION. 

child  marked  off  all  periods  of  the  past  under  the  head  of 
"yesterday,"  and  all  periods  of  the  future  under  the  head 
of  "to-morrow"  or  "by-and-by."  A  considerable  ad- 
vance in  intelligence  (including  observation,  etc.)  is  nec- 
essary before  children  can  pass  from  this  rough  discrimi- 
nation of  one  and  many  to  the  recognition  of  particular 
numbers,  and  from  a  mere  discrimination  between  past 
and  future  to  the  recognition  of  definite  divisions  of  time, 
as  yesterday,  to-morrow,  last  week,  next  week. 

Period  of  Fuller  Development. — The  power  of  ab- 
straction, of  analyzing  things  and  discovering  their  com- 
mon aspects,  qualities  and  relations,  only  attains  its  full 
development  slowly.  The  denotation  of  names  is  learned 
long  before  a  careful  analysis  of  their  connotation  is  car- 
ried out.  This  is  seen  plainly  in  the  lateness  of  the  com- 
prehension and  use  of  abstract  names.  As  M.  Perez  ob- 
serves, a  child  of  two  will  perfectly  understand  the  phrase, 
"  This  glass  is  larger  than  the  stopper,"  but  will  not  under- 
stand the  expression,  "  The  size  of  that  house  there."  * 
The  clear  grasp  of  more  abstract  notions,  including  those 
of  mental  and  moral  qualities,  belongs  to  the  stage  of 
youth  as  distinguished  from  that  of  childhood.  The  ear- 
lier period  is  pre-eminently  that  of  concrete  knowledge. 
During  this  time  the  number  of  concepts  formed  is  com- 
paratively small,  and  these  are  such  as  involve  the  presence 
of  numerous  or  obvious  resemblances.  But  from  about 
the  twelfth  year  a  marked  increase  in  the  power  of  abstrac- 
tion is  commonly  observable.     In  cases  where  the  powers 

most  rudimentary  perception  of  numbers.  M.  Perez  ("  The  First 
Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p.  185,  etc.)  tells  us  that  this  corresponds 
to  an  animal's  distinction  of  number.  A  cat  with  only  one  kitten  left 
it  out  of  a  number  was  miserable  ;  but  when  two  were  left  it  out  of 
five  it  was  contented.  It  thus  distinguished  between  one  and  many. 
Sir  John  Lubbock  lately  remarked  that  if  four  eggs  are  in  a  nest,  one 
may  be  taken  without  troubling  the  mother ;  but  if  two  are  removed, 
she  commonly  deserts  the  nest. 

*  //'/./.,  p.  184. 


INCREASE  OF  CONCEPTUAL  POWER. 


229 


of  observation  and  of  imagination  have  been  properly  cul- 
tivated we  may  notice  at  this  stage  a  strong  disposition  to 
view  things  under  their  common  aspects.  And,  conform- 
ably to  this,  the  language  employed  becomes  more  general 
and  more  abstract. 

How  Progress  in  Conceptual  Power  is  to  be 
measured. — This  advance  may  be  measured  in  different 
ways.  As  the  power  of  abstraction  grows,  particular  im- 
pressions and  observations  are  brought  more  and  more 
under  general  heads.  Again,  it  is  noticeable  that  concepts 
on  the  same  level  of  generality  are  framed  with  greater 
and  greater  facility.  Less  time  and  effort  are  needed  to 
form  a  new  notion.  Once  more,  the  concepts  reached 
show  a  higher  degree  of  generality  and  are  more  abstract 
in  character.  The  use  of  such  words  as  "action,"  "life," 
"idea,"  marks  d  considerable  step  onward.  The  progress 
of  conceptual  power  is  marked  further  by  an  increased 
distinctness  in  the  concepts  formed,  and  a  greater  facility 
in  defining  the  terms  used,  and  in  distinguishing  them 
from  other  terms  with  which  they  are  apt  to  be  confused. 

Varieties  of  Conceptual  Power. — Individuals  dif- 
fer considerably  in  their  power  of  abstraction.  Some 
minds  are  much  quicker  in  seeing  similarity  amid  diver- 
sity, in  spying  analogies  among  things,  and  in  bringing  to 
light  the  common  aspects  of  objects.  These  differences 
turn  partly  on  inequalities  in  power  of  attention,  of  draw- 
ing off  the  thoughts  from  what  is  attractive,  and  fixing 
them  on  what  we  desire  to  note.  They  depend  too,  in 
part,  on  inequalities  in  the  mind's  assimilative  power.  As 
already  remarked,  it  is  probable  that  some  persons  have  a 
special  bent  of  mind  to  the  detection  of  similarity,  whereas 
others  lean  to  the  perception  of  differences. 

What  is  called  a  good  power  of  abstraction  shows  itself 
in  a  general  facility  in  detecting  the  common  qualities  and 
relations  of  things.  At  the  same  time,  we  commonly  find 
the  faculty  manifesting  itself  in  a  special  form  in  some 


230  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 

particular  domain  of  percepts  and  ideas.  Thus  one  boy 
will  show  a  special  power  of  abstraction  in  classing  natural 
objects,  as  minerals  and  plants ;  another,  in  analyzing 
physical  processes  ;  another,  in  constructing  the  ideal  no- 
tions of  mathematics  ;  and  another,  in  seizing  types  of 
human  character  and  classes  of  motive. 

These  differences,  again,  clearly  depend  in  part  on 
native  peculiarities.  Children  are  not  endowed  at  the 
outset  with  the  same  degree  of  assimilative  power.  A 
child  at  three  years  will  often  display  a  marked  quickness 
in  tracing  out  similarities  in  the  forms  of  objects,  manners 
of  persons,  and  so  forth.  Moreover,  the  peculiar  mental 
constitution  and  individual  tastes  may  give  a  special  bent 
to  a  definite  form  of  conception.  Thus,  other  things  being 
equal,  a  boy  with  an  eye  closely  observant  of  the  forms  of 
objects  will  show  a  special  readiness  in  dealing  with  the 
concepts  of  geometry,  while  another  with  abundant  mus- 
cular activity  and  a  strong  bent  toward  practical  contriv- 
ance will  naturally  occupy  himself  in  forming  notions 
about  Nature's  processes,  the  notions  with  which  mechan- 
ics specially  deals. 

At  the  same  time,  the  degree  of  power  of  abstraction 
attained  generally,  or  in  any  special  direction,  turns  to  a 
considerable  extent  on  the  amount  of  exercise,  training,  or 
culture  undergone.  Speaking  roughly,  we  may  say  that 
the  educated  youth  is  most  clearly  marked  off  from  the 
uneducated  by  the  possession  of  a  large  stock  of  general 
notions  and  a  facility  in  noting  and  detaching  the  common 
aspects  of  the  things  about  him.  And  it  is  no  less  mani- 
fest that  special  devotion  to  any  branch  of  study,  as  lan- 
guages or  mathematics,  will  in  average  cases  result  in  a 
marked  increase  in  a  special  conceptual  aptitude  in  this 
particular  region. 

Training  the  Power  of  Abstraction.— The  prob- 
lem of  exercising  the  power  of  abstraction  and  generaliza- 
tion is  attended  with  peculiar  difficulties.     Children,  it  is 


EXERCISE  IN  CLASSING   OBJECTS.  231 

commonly  said,  delight  in  the  concrete,  and  find  abstrac- 
tion arduous  and  distasteful.  Nevertheless,  it  is  certain 
that  they  spontaneously  occupy  their  minds  in  discovering 
resemblances  among  things  and  in  the  more  simple  kinds 
of  generalization.  There  is,  indeed,  a  real  intellectual 
satisfaction  in  discovering  similarities  among  things.  A 
young  child's  face  may  be  seen  to  brighten  up  on  newly 
discovering  some  point  of  similarity.*  And  to  some  ex- 
tent this  pleasure  may  be  utilized  in  calling  forth  and  de- 
veloping the  child's  powers.  His  lack  of  interest  in  gen- 
eralities is  often  due  to  the  fact  that  his  mind  is  not  sup- 
plied with  the  necessary  concrete  examples  out  of  which 
the  notions  have  to  be  formed. f 

Exercise  in  Classing  Objects. — The  training  of 
the  conceptual  power  should  begin  in  connection  with 
sense-observation.  As  pointed  out  above,  the  analysis  of 
objects  into  their  constituent  parts  and  qualities  is  the 
way  in  w^hich  the  power  of  abstraction  first  displays  itself 
And  this  exercise  should  be  carried  on  hand  in  hand  with 
the  comparison  of  one  object  with  another.  In  this  way 
the  first  lessons  in  classifying  objects  and  noting  their  ab- 
stract qualities  should  arise  naturally  out  of  the  exercises 
involved  in  the  training  of  the  senses  and  the  observing 
faculty.  The  impulses  of  activity  should  here  be  enlisted 
as  far  as  possible  in  picking  out  and  sorting  objects,  so  as 
to  lend  a  more  vivid  interest  to  the  exercises. 

The  process  of  generalizing  may  be  still  further  aided 
by  a  judicious  selection  of  particulars  for  inspection. 
Here  the  teacher  should  remember  that  it  is  first  impres- 

*  E.  g.,  when  a  boy  (twenty-six  months  old),  watching  a  dog  pant- 
ing after  a  run,  exclaimed  with  evident  pleasure,  "  Dat  like  a  puff 
puff"  (locomotive). 

f  "  There  is  nothing  the  human  mind  grasps  with  more  delight 
than  generalization  or  classification,  when  it  has  already  made  an  accu- 
mulation of  particulars  ;  but  nothing  from  which  it  turns  with  more 
repugnance  in  its  previous  state  of  inanition."     (Isaac  Taylor.) 


232  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 

sions  which  last,  and  that  the  examples  of  a  class  first 
studied  serve  to  give  the  impress  to  the  resulting  notion. 
Hence,  the  examples  first  brought  under  the  attention  of 
the  pupil  should  be  such  as  most  clearly  exhibit  the  char- 
acteristic qualities  of  the  class,  and  therefore  best  serve  as 
the  representatives  of  the  same.  Thus,  to  take  an  obvious 
example,  in  building  up  the  class  "food,"  common  and 
familiar  varieties,  as  milk,  bread,  etc.,  should  be  taken 
rather  than  exceptional  varieties.  So,  in  an  elementary- 
lesson  on  botany,  good  average  specimens  of  a  plant, 
showing  the  typical  form,  should  be  preferred  to  unusual 
or  extreme  examples.  For  a  similar  reason  the  best  speci- 
men of  an  island  to  take  at  the  outset  is  one  like  Iceland, 
surrounded  by  a  large  mass  of  water,  rather  than  one 
which,  like  Newfoundland  or  the  Isle  of  Wight,  has  the 
striking  accidental  accompaniment  of  being  a  sort  of  ap- 
pendage to  a  main-land.  So,  again,  the  teacher  should  be 
careful,  in  leading  up  to  geometrical  concepts,  to  make  his 
representative  instances  typical.  Thus  the  first  triangle 
to  present  to  the  eye  should  not  be  an  extreme  form,  as 
an  isosceles  triangle  with  a  very  narrow  base,  but  one  in 
which  each  of  the  three  sides  and  angles  is  distinct  and 
apparent. 

It  is  well  at  the  outset  to  reduce  as  far  as  possible  by 
practical  expedient  the  attractive  force  of  individual  pe- 
culiarities against  which  the  faculty  of  abstraction  has  to 
work.  This  is  effected,  in  geometrical  teaching,  by  the 
device  of  separating  form  from  its  concrete  embodiment, 
and  more  particularly  the  interesting  concomilant  of  color. 
The  drawing  of  a  line  or  circle  on  the  blackboard  is  an 
enormous  aid  to  the  formation  of  the  abstract  ideal  notion 
of  a  perfect  form  separate  from  substance.  The  same  de- 
vice is  available,  to  some  extent,  in  dealing  with  the  forms 
of  concrete  objects.  Thus  it  is  a  great  advantage  to 
present  the  typical  form  (or  forms)  of  the  mountain  by  an 
outline  drawing  before  going  on  to  consider  the  individual 


TEACHERS  GIVE  TOO  FEW  EXAMPLES. 


233 


specimens  with  their  several  irregularities  and  peculiarities. 
So,  again,  it  is  a  great  help,  in  building  up  the  simpler 
notions  of  number,  to  begin  with  plain  and  not  highly 
interesting  objects,  such  as  small  pebbles,  where  the 
diverting  influence  of  color  and  pleasurable  association 
is  reduced  to  a  minimum. 

Again,  a  sufficient  variety  of  instances  must  be  sup- 
plied in  every  case  in  order  to  avoid  haste  in  comparison, 
and  subsequent  indistinctness  and  inaccuracy  in  concep- 
tion. As  Waitz  observes,  the  learner  must  be  led  to  see 
the  whole  extent  of  the  abstraction,  and  be  able  to  repro- 
duce this  if  it  is  not  to  suffer  in  point  of  clearness  and  its 
applicability  to  single  cases  not  to  be  indefinite.  Nothing 
is  more  fatal  than  haste  in  slurring  over  the  preliminary 
process  of  laying  a  broad  and  firm  foundation  of  abstract 
conception  in  observation  of  concrete  examples.  No 
doubt  a  certain  discretion  may  be  observed  here.  The 
number  of  instances  necessary  to  a  clear  concept  is  not 
the  same  in  every  case.  As  Dr.  Bain  remarks,*  a  child 
can  be  led  to  see  a  single  quality,  such  as  weight  or  trans- 
parency, by  means  of  one  or  two  well-chosen  examples, 
whereas  in  the  case  of  classes  constituted  by  a  number  of 
connected  properties,  as  metal,  plant,  etc.,  a  large  number 
are  needful.  Nevertheless,  it  may  be  safely  maintained 
that  teachers  are  in  all  cases  apt  to  supply  too  few  ex- 
amples. Even  the  ideas  of  number  can  not  be  properly 
grasped  without  a  variety  of  objects.  The  essential  idea 
of  number,  as  something  independent  of  the  particular 
local  arrangement  of  the  objects,  can  only  be  made  clear 
by  varying  this — e.  g.,  by  presenting  three  as  three  dots  or 
marbles  in  a  line,  as  a  triangular  arrangement,  and  so  on. 
Further,  a  child  only  fully  seizes  the  abstract  idea  of  three, 
four,  etc.,  as  distinct  from  three  beads,  and  so  forth,  by 
comparing  groups  of  different  objects,  as  beads,  trees,  etc. 
The  building  up  of  the  elementary  ideas  of  number  oughi 
*  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap,  vii,  p.  197. 


234 


ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 


to  be  carried  out  in  part  under  the  parent's  guidance  in 
the  observation  of  a  large  variety  of  every-day  groups. 

Once  more,  throughout  this  process  of  training  the 
power  of  abstraction,  the  teacher  should  seek  to  combine 
the  exercise  of  discrimination  with  that  of  assimilation. 
Thus  he  should  invite  the  child  to  distinguish  transparent 
from  opaque  bodies,  solids  from  fluids,  organic  from  in- 
organic bodies,  triangles  from  quadrangles,  and  so  forth  ; 
and  the  child  should  be  trained  in  the  systematic  arrange- 
ment of  classes  by  the  processes  of  classification  and 
division.  In  this  way  his  concepts  will  grow  in  point  of 
definiteness  and  orderly  arrangement. 

Finally,  this  operation  of  comparing  and  classing  should 
be  supplemented  by  naming  the  objects  thus  grouped  to- 
gether, and  pointing  out  in  the  form  of  a  definition  the 
more  important  of  the  traits  they  have  in  common.  This 
part  of  the  process  is  attended  with  its  own  peculiar  risks. 
Looseness  in  definition  is  not  uncommon  among  parents 
and  teachers.  The  rules  of  definition  must  be  observed, 
essential  and  important  qualities  selected,  and  a  sufficient 
enumeration  of  them  given  to  enable  the  pupil  to  recog- 
nize members  of  the  class.  The  test  of  a  good  definition 
is  that  it  tells  us  as  much  as  possible  about  the  distinctive 
nature  of  the  things  denoted  by  the  term,  and  so  helps  us 
to  identify  them.  To  secure  this  result  it  is  not  necessary 
to  take  the  pupil  at  the  outset  into  a  survey  of  all  the 
more  obscure  properties  of  things.  Thus  the  term  '*  metal  " 
can  be  defined  well  enough  for  children's  purposes  with- 
out exhaustively  setting  forth  all  that  the  chemist  under- 
stands by  it;  and,  similarly,  "plant,"  without  bringing  into 
view  all  that  a  botanist  understands  by  the  term.  In 
thus  using  definitions,  however,  the  teacher  must  be  on 
his  guard  against  a  substitution  of  the  verbal  formula 
used  in  defining  terms  for  a  grasp  of  the  real  things  them- 
selves and  their  qualities.  The  definition  must  be  based 
on,  and  grow  out  of,  an  actual  inspection  of  things,  and 


COMPARISON  OF  REAL   OBJECTS.  235 

the  vitality  of  the  notion  maintained  by  continual  recur- 
rence to  concrete  objects  in  the  way  of  identifying  them, 
picking  them  out  from  a  crowd  of  objects,  and  so  on. 

The  leading  motto  of  modern  education, "  Things  before 
names,"  makes  it  desirable  to  base  all  definition  on  a  com- 
parison of  real  objects.  This  truth  is  clearly  recognized 
in  teaching  the  elements  of  subjects  that  are  commonly 
supposed  to  set  out  with  definitions,  as  arithmetic,  geome- 
try, and  physics.  It  is  vain  to  plunge  a  boy  into  the  defi- 
nitions of  Euclid  till  he  has  been  exercised  in  building  up 
ideas  of  the  simpler  geometrical  forms  by  inspecting  actual 
objects.  And  it  is  now  coming  to  be  recognized  that  the 
teaching  of  grammatical  distinctions  must  follow  the  same 
rule.  That  is  to  say,  the  real  meaning  of  a  part  of  speech, 
or  its  function  in  a  sentence,  can  be  best  arrived  at  by  in- 
specting actual  instances  of  spoken  or  written  sentences 
and  comparing  a  number  of  such  one  with  another. 

Explaining  Meaning  of  Words.— A  special  diffi- 
culty in  developing  children's  powers  of  abstraction  arises 
in  connection  with  the  formation  of  those  notions  which 
can  not  be  reached  by  a  direct  inspection  of  objects. 
All  instruction  involves  the  unfolding  of  the  meaning  of 
general  terms.  In  the  most  elementary  lesson  in  geogra- 
phy or  history  a  certain  number  of  such  terms  are  neces- 
sarily employed.  In  moral  instruction,  new  and  difficult 
words  have  from  time  to  time  to  be  introduced  and  ex- 
plained. The  art  of  setting  forth  the  meaning  of  a  new 
term  by  well-chosen  concrete  example  and  in  suitable 
language  is  one  of  the  distinguishing  marks  of  a  good  in- 
structor. Where  the  child  has  had  experience  of  concrete 
examples,  as  in  the  case  of  moral  qualities,  it  is  best  to 
appeal  directly  in  the  first  instance  to  this.  Thus  temper- 
ance, justice,  and  so  forth,  should  be  made  real  by  refer- 
ence to  examples  in  the  child's  own  life  of  the  quality 
itself  and  of  its  opposite.  But  this  should  be  supple- 
mented by  a  reference  to  distinguished  historical  or  liter- 


236  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION. 

ary  examples,  as  the  patriotism  of  Horatius,  the  bravery 
of  Grace  Darling,  etc.  And  where,  as  in  explaining  many 
of  the  terms  used  in  history,  the  instructor  can  not  appeal 
to  examples  in  the  child's  experience,  the  utmost  use  must 
be  made  of  the  analogies  which  that  experience  affords  in 
order  to  secure  the  construction  of  clear  typical  images, 
and  so  of  clear  notions.^ 

Controlling  the  Child's  Use  of  Words.— There 
is  perhaps  no  part  of  intellectual  training  which  requires 
so  much  careful  attention  as  the  control  of  the  child's  use 
of  words.  On  the  one  hand  it  is  an  evil  for  a  child  to 
pick  up  and  use  words  just  because  they  are  used  by  his 
elders  and  sound  grand,  before  he  can  attach  precise  ideas 
to  them.  "  When,"  says  Madame  Necker,  "  the  want  of  a 
word  has  preceded  the  possession  of  it,  the  child  can  apply 
it  naturally  and  justly."  But  as  his  intelligence  and  his 
needs  grow,  new  words  should  be  introduced  and  ex- 
plained. As  the  same  writer  observes,  "  the  power  of  ex- 
pressing our  thoughts  helps  to  clear  them  up." 

The  educator  should  keep  jealous  watch  over  the 
child's  use  of  words  with  the  view  of  guarding  him  against 
a  slovenly  application  of  them.  Looseness  and  vagueness 
at  the  outset  are  apt  to  induce  a  slovenly  habit  of  think- 
ing. This  danger  can  only  be  averted  by  exercising  the 
learner  in  making  his  notions  as  clear  as  possible.  He 
should  be  well  practiced  from  the  first  in  explaining  the 
words  he  employs.  It  is  of  great  importance  to  see  that  a 
child  never  employs  any  word  without  attaching  some  in- 
telligible meaning  to  it.  He  should  be  questioned  as  to 
his  meaning,  and  prove  himself  able  to  give  concrete  in- 
stances or  examples  of  the  notion,  and  (where  possible)  to 
define  his  term,  roughly  at  least.  The  meaning  which  he 
attaches  to  the  word  may  be  far  from  accurate,  to  begin 
with.  But  the  educator  may  be  satisfied  with  a  rough  ap- 
proximation to  accuracy  as  long  as  the  meaning  is  definite 
and  clear  to  the  child's  mind.     As  knowledge  widens,  the 


PUPILS  ADVANCED    TOO  RAPIDLY. 


237 


teacher  should  take  pains  to  supplement  and  correct  these 
first  crude  notions,  substituting  exact  for  rough  and  inex- 
act definitions. 

Order  of  taking  up  Abstract  Studies. — The  vari- 
ous subjects  of  instruction  exercise  the  powers  of  abstrac- 
tion in  a  very  unequal  degree,  and  so  should  be  taken 
up  at  different  times.  The  strength  of  faculty  involved  in 
the  classification  of  natural  objects  is  so  slight  that  it  may, 
as  observed,  be  commenced  in  the  age  of  observation  in 
the  nursery  and  Kindergarten.  The  exercise  of  abstrac- 
tion in  building  up  ideas  of  number  belongs  to  a  later 
period.  Few  children,  I  suspect,  are  ready  for  this  till 
they  reach  their  fourth  or  fifth  year.  And  the  same  ap- 
plies to  the  formation  of  elementary  geometrical  ideas. 
The  careful  classifications  of  natural  history,  as  that  of 
plants,  presuppose  a  still  higher  power  of  comparing,  as- 
similating, and  discriminating  things.  A  yet  more  decided 
leap  is  taken  when  we  pass  from  these  to  the  higher  ab- 
stractions of  physical  science,  as  force,  momentum,  the 
more  difiicult  mathematical  conceptions,  as  sine  of  an 
angle,  and  the  more  abstruse  ideas  of  history  and  mor- 
als, as  state,  representative  government,  justice,  and  so 
forth.* 

The  problem  when  it  is  possible  and  most  advanta- 
geous to  take  up  these  more  abstract  subjects,  is  one  of  the 
most  perplexing  ones  in  the  art  of  education.  Individuals 
appear  to  differ  so  much  in  respect  of  the  rapidity  of  this 
side  of  intellectual  development  that  no  universal  rule 
can  be  laid  down.  One  may,  "however,  safely  say  that,  in 
the  past,  teachers  have  been  in  the  habit  of  taking  pupils 
on  to  these  higher  exercises  too  soon,  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  pressure  put  on  the  modern  teacher  to  get  through 
a  number  of  subjects  in  a  short  time  leads  to  an  injudi- 

*  One  of  the  most  difficult  points  to  determine  in  the  order  of 
abstractness  is  the  proper  position  of  grammar,  in  its  more  logical  as- 
pects.    See  Bain,  "  Education  as  a  Science;"  p.  213. 


238  ABSTRACTION  AND   CONCEPTION 

cious,  if  not  wasteful  and  positively  injurious,  introduction 

of  abstract  studies  before  the  mind  is  fully  prepared  for 

them. 

APPENDIX. 

On  the  early  developments  of  the  powers  of  abstraction  the  reader 
should  consult  M.  Perez's  volume,  "  The  First  Three  Years  of  Child- 
hood," chaps.  X,  ii,  iii,  and  iv  ;  also  the  work  of  Prof.  Preyer,  "  Die 
Seele  des  Kindes  "  {2,^^  Theil). 

On  the  training  of  the  powers  of  abstraction  the  reader  would  do 
well  to  read  Locke's  valuable  chapters  on  the  "  Imperfection  and  Abuse 
of  Words,"  "  Essay,"  book  iii,  chaps,  ix-xi.  The  difficulties  of  exercis- 
ing the  powers  of  abstraction  and  the  best  means  of  alleviating  these 
are  well  dealt  with  by  Dr.  Bain,  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap,  vii, 
pp.  191-197.  The  German  reader  should  also  consult  Beneke,  op.  cit, 
§§  26-38,  and  Waitz,  "  Allgemeine  Paedagogik,"  2^"  Theil,  §  21,  and 
Pfisterer,  "  Paedagogische  Psychologic,"  §  27.  In  connection  with  this 
subject  the  teacher  should  read  those  chapters  in  logic  which  deal 
with  terms  and  their  distinctions,  and  with  the  processes  of  division 
and  definition  (e.  g.,  Jevons,  "  Elementary  Lessons  in  Logic,"  iii,  v,  and 
xii). 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

JUDGING    AND    REASONING. 

The  process  of  abstraction  and  conception  unfolded  in 
the  last  chapter  prepares  the  way  for  the  higher  develop- 
ments of  thought,  viz.,  judging  and  reasoning.  These 
operations  are  so  closely  connected  that  it  is  best  to  con- 
sider them  together. 

Nature  of  Judgment. — In  common  life,  to  judge  is 
to  come  to  a  decision  about  a  question,  as  the  judge  does 
in  a  court  of  law.  This  presupposes  a  question,  room  for 
doubt,  and  a  complicated  process  of  weighing  evidence. 
In  mental  science  the  term  is  used  in  a  more  comprehen- 
sive sense.  We  judge,  whenever  we  affirm  or  deny  one 
thing  of  another,  whether  the  matter  is  clear  and  certain,  as 
in  saying,  "This  is  a  rose,"  "Two  and  two  make  four,"  or 
one  that  admits  of  doubt,  as  "  This  plan  is  the  best."  The 
act  of  judging  is  seeing  that  a  thing  is  so,  and  being  ready 
to  affirm  it. 

The  result  of  the  act  is  called  a  judgment.  Every 
judgment  admits  of  being  expressed  in  a  statement,  or 
what  logicians  call  a  proposition.  The  "  subject "  of  the 
proposition  answers  to  the  thing  about  which  we  affirm, 
and  the  predicate  to  that  which  is  affirmed.  Thus,  in  the 
statement,  "  Fire  warms,"  the  mind  is  predicating  some- 
thing about  fire,  the  subject,  viz.,  that  it  has  the  power  of 
warming. 

It  is  evident  that  to  affirm  one  thing  of  another  in- 


240  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

volves  a  reference  to  fact  or  reality.  When  a  child  says 
that  its  food  is  hot,  or  that  a  plate  is  dirty,  it  thinks  of  the 
object  as  actually  in  this  condition.  That  is  to  say,  judg- 
ment implies  belief  about  a  fact.  Where  we  do  not  be- 
lieve that  a  thing  really  has  that  which  is  predicated,  we 
do  not  judge.  Again,  it  is  plain  that,  since  in  judging  we 
represent  a  thing  as  being  so  or  so,  our  judgment  may  be 
correct  or  incorrect  or  mistaken,  according  as  the  repre- 
sentation does  or  does  not  accord  with  the  real  fact. 
And,  finally,  for  the  same  reason  the  proposition  which 
declares  the  judgment  may  be  either  true  or  false. 

That  which  we  predicate  or  pronounce  about  a  thing 
in  our  statement  is  not  in  every  case  the  same.  Some- 
times we  comprehend  a  thing  in  a  class,  or  endow  it  with 
certain  qualities,  as  in  the  affirmations,  "  This  is  a  flint," 
"This  knife  is  rusty."  In  others  we  set  forth  a  relation 
between  things,  as  in  the  propositions,  "  Ireland  lies  to  the 
west  of  Great  Britain,"  "  Heat  softens  bodies."  One  im- 
portant class  of  affirmations  has  to  do  with  the  relation  of 
similarity  and  dissimilarity,  as  in  the  judgments,  "  French 
resembles  Latin,"  "The  opposite  sides  of  a  parallelogram 
are  equal,"  "  Any  two  sides  of  a  triangle  are  greater  than 
the  third." 

All  predication  affirms  likeness  or  unlikeness,  either 
explicitly  or  implicitly.  Thus,  in  placing  an  object  in  a 
class,  and  less  distinctly  in  attributing  to  it  a  certain  qual- 
ity, we  are  assimilating  it  to  other  objects.  So  again  in 
predicating  a  relation,  as  that  of  cause  and  effect,  between 
things  we  are  assimilating  the  particular  causal  agent  as 
such  to  other  known  causes. 

It  may  be  seen  from  this  short  account  of  judgment 
that  it  is  co-extensive  with  the  whole  area  of  knowledge. 
Everything  that  we  know  or  think  that  we  know  involves 
an  element  of  judgment,  and  when  it  becomes  distinct 
knowledge  can  be  explicitly  set  forth  in  a  proposition. 
Thus,  even  in  our  e very-day  acts  of  perception,  we  implic- 


CONCEPTS  AND  JUDGMENTS.  241 

itly  affirm  that  what  we  see  is  a  real  tangible  thing,  that 
it  lies  at  a  particular  distance  from  us,  that  it  presents  cer- 
tain features,  and  so  forth.  The  simplest  act  of  analysis 
performed  on  an  object  of  perception  thus  involves  the 
rudiment  of  a  judgment.  This  may  not  become  explicit 
and  express  itself  in  a  proposition  (audible  or  inaudible), 
but  the  essential  activity  of  judging  is  present  in  some 
measure. 

Relation  of  Concept  to  Judgment.— It  is  evident 
that  a  judgment,  as  connecting  two  ideas  one  with  another, 
is  a  more  complex  mental  product  than  a  concept.  Every 
explicit  act  of  judgment  implies  a  concept  already  formed. 
We  can  not  affirm  anything  of  a  concrete  individual  ob- 
ject, as  when  we  say,  "  This  stone  is  a  fossil,"  or  "  This 
substance  is  transparent,"  without  already  having  the  idea 
of  fossil  or  of  transparency. 

On  the  other  hand,  while  the  judgment  thus  presup- 
poses the  concept,  the  formation  of  the  concept  itself 
involves  a  rudimentary  form  of  judging.  Thus  a  child 
can  not  form  the  idea  "  heavy  "  without  comparing  heavy 
objects  and  implicitly  affirming  them  to  agree  in  respect 
of  this  quality.  Every  successive  stage  of  generalization 
is  thus  carried  out  by  a  process  of  judging  things  to  be 
similar.  And  in  building  up  the  more  complex  concepts 
of  classes,  as  "iron"  or  "metal,"  the  child  is  connecting 
a  number  of  qualities,  e.  g.,  weight,  hardness,  metallic 
luster.  This  work  of  combining  qualities  goes  on  gradu- 
ally as  he  comes  to  discover  new  properties  in  things,  and 
is  carried  out  by  successive  acts  of  judging.  That  is  to 
say,  the  result  of  an  act  of  judgment  becomes  embodied 
in  a  concept.  After  finding  out,  for  example,  that  iron  is 
softened  by  heat,  the  child  will  take  up  this  fact  into  his 
idea  of  iron,  which  thus  becomes  fuller  and  richer.  We 
S3e,  then,  that  the  successive  developments  of  our  concepts 
are  effected  by  means  of  acts  of  judgment,  and  every  such 
enlargement  of  a  concept  supplies  an  element  for  a  higher 


242  JUDGING  AND   'REASONING. 

form  of  judgment.  Thus  the  growth  of  conception  and 
judging  go  on  together  and  assist  one  another. 

Process  of  Judging. — The  mental  operation  which 
leads  up  to  decision  and  affimation  may  be  brief  and 
simple,  or  prolonged  and  intricate.  Speaking  generally, 
however,  we  may  say  that  judging  involves  {a)  materials 
for  judgment  ready  to  hand,  and  {b)  a  process  of  reflecting 
on  these  in  order  to  see  to  what  result  they  point. 

{a)  The  materials  which  enable  us  to  judge  about 
things  are  supplied  either  by  our  own  personal  experience 
or  by  the  words  or  testimony  of  others.  Experience  and 
authority  are  thus  the  two  great  sources  of  our  facts  or 
data. 

It  is  evident  that  the  ability  to  judge  about  any  matter 
presupposes  careful  observation  in  the  past  and  ready 
reproduction.  I  can  not  decide  whether  this  flower  is  an 
orchid,  or  this  stone  an  onyx,  unless  I  have  carefully 
noted  the  characters  of  the  class,  distinguishing  it  from 
other  classes.  Moreover,  unless  we  observe  and  recall 
things  in  their  true  connections  of  time  and  place,  we 
shall  not  be  in  a  position  to  decide  about  them.  Thus,  in 
judging  as  to  the  nature  of  a  rock,  we  need  to  recall  not 
only  the  exact  appearance  of  the  rocks  it  resembles,  but 
their  position  in  relation  to  other  strata. 

The  testimony  of  others,  including  tradition  and  au- 
thority, is  a  great  additional  source  of  materials  of  judg- 
ment. A  child  that  trusted  exclusively  to  his  own  experi- 
ence, and  attached  no  value  to  others*  statements,  would 
not  be  in  a  position  to  decide  about  many  matters.  But 
authority  can  easily  exercise  an  excessive  influence  on 
judgment.  A  person  who  believes  a  thing  just  because  he 
is  told,  when  he  might  find  out  for  himself  whether  the 
fact  is  really  so,  is  not  using  his  materials. 

{b)  The  process  of  reflection  on  the  materials  involves 
an  act  of  will.  To  come  to  a  sound  decision  on  a  matter 
of  any  difficulty  implies   that  the    mind    rejects  what  is 


WHAT  JUDGING  IMPLIES,  243 

irrelevant,  steadily  keeps  in  view  all  the  relevant  facts, 
and  weighs  well  the  precise  bearing  of  each  fact  on  the 
case.  And  all  this  is  a  special  exercise  of  the  power  of 
voluntarily  concentrating  the  thoughts.  The  higher  this 
power  of  voluntary  control  of  the  mental  contents,  the 
more  clear  and  rapid  the  decision. 

To  judge  brings  into  full  play  the  functions  of  assimi- 
lation and  discrimination.  In  order  to  judge  about  any 
matter,  we  must  be  able  to  detect  its  affinities  to  what  is 
already  familiar.  To  say,  "  This  is  a  flint,"  implies  that 
the  mind  classes  the  object  with  previously  known  objects 
on  the  ground  of  certain  resemblances.  And  while  assimi- 
lation is  thus  a  prominent  ingredient  in  judging,  discrimi- 
nation is  no  less  conspicuous.  An  act  of  sense-discrimi- 
nation is  the  simplest  type  of  judgment.  And  in  classing 
an  object,  e.  g.,  a  flint,  the  mind  has  to  carefully  distin- 
guish the  essential  marks  of  this  from  those  of  other 
stones  with  which  it  might  be  confounded.  It  is  only 
when  we  thus  discriminate,  and  by  discriminating  assimi- 
late the  new  to  the  old  in  their  essential  affinities,  that  we 
are  able  to  judge  accurately. 

As  a  last  element  in  this  process  of  voluntary  reflection 
and  control  we  have  the  repression  of  feeling  and  inclina- 
tion. When  we  strongly  desire  to  find  a  thing  so  and  so, 
our  minds  are  apt  to  be  biased  in  this  direction.  To 
judge  well  whether  a  course  is  wise  or  right  presupposes 
that  we  keep  down  any  inclination  or  disinclination  to  this 
course. 

The  process  of  judging  having  been  carried  out,  there 

remains  the  expression  of  the  result  reached  in  suitable 

language.     This  is  by  no  means  an  insignificant  part  of 

the   operation.      Persons  who    do   not   clearly  seize   the 

meaning  of  terms,  and  who  are  lax  in  their  use  of  language, 

are  apt  to  express  their  decisions  badly.     Clear  thinking 

includes  the  ability  and  disposition  to  give  as  precise  a 

form  as  possible  to  the  expression  of  the  thought. 

17  ,    - 


244  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

Affirmation  and  Negation. — The  simplest  type  of 
judgment  is  an  affirmation,  a  positive  assertion  that  a 
thing  is  so  and  so.  But  all  our  judgments  are  not  affirma- 
tive. Logicians  distinguish  between  affirmative  and  nega- 
tive judgments  and  propositions.  We  may  deny  as  well  as 
affirm,  or  say  that  a  thing  is  not,  as  well  as  that  it  is. 
Negation  refers  back  to  a  previous  affirmation  actually 
made  or  suggested  to  the  mind.  Thus,  to  say,  "  It  is  not 
going  to  rain,"  implies  that  the  corresponding  affirmation 
("  It  is  going  to  rain  ")  has  actually  been  made  by  some- 
body, or  has  somehow  been  suggested  by  a  question,  "  Is 
it  going  to  rain  ?  "  or  otherwise.  Negation  is  the  putting 
away  or  the  rejection  of  an  affirmation  as  untrue  or  false. 
Our  minds  are  unable  to  combine  the  ideas  answering  to 
subject  and  predicate  in  the  way  proposed. 

It  is  evident  that  while  affirmation  is  to  a  large  extent 
based  on  a  discovery  of  similarity,  negation  is  based  on 
the  detection  of  difference.  If  I  say,  "  This  is  not  a  real 
fossil,"  or  "This  is  not  an  equilateral  triangle,"  it  is  be- 
cause I  discriminate  the  features  presented  by  the  object 
before  me  from  those  of  the  class.  Negative  judgments 
are  of  high  importance  as  setting  forth  distinctions  be- 
tween things.  The  mind  that  is  acute  in  distinguishing 
facts  and  ideas  naturally  resorts  to  this  type. 

Logicians  tell  us  that  every  statement  which  can  be 
made  or  proposed  must  be  either  true  or  false  :  e.  g., 
**  Either  this  flower  is  an  orchid  or  it  is  not."  Hence  it 
follows  that,  whenever  called  on  to  judge  about  a  matter, 
the  mind  has  to  decide  between  an  affirmation  and  a  nega- 
tion. For  example,  we  have  to  make  up  our  minds 
whether  this  is  a  real  diamond  or  a  spurious  one,  whether 
this  boy  is  guilty  or  is  not  guilty,  that  is,  innocent.  Hence 
an  act  of  judgment  (when  its  meaning  is  made  explicit)  is 
in  every  case  a  choice  between  two  alternatives,  and  so  it 
resembles  the  decision  of  a  judge,  to  which,  as  already 
pointed  out,  the  expression  "  to  judge  "  seems  originally  to 


SUSPE.ySION  OF  JUDGMENT,  245 

refer.  The  ability  to  decide  or  make  up  one's  mind  about 
any  matter  thus  depends  on  the  mind's  power  of  discrimi- 
nating (i)  what  tells  for,  and  what  tells  against,  a  proposi- 
tion ;  and  (2)  which  of  the  considerations  (or  groups  of 
considerations)  has  the  greater  importance. 

Belief  and  Doubt— So  far  it  has  been  assumed  that 
the  mind  must  decide  one  way  or  another  about  any  mat- 
ter presented  to  it.  But  this  is  not  the  only  alternative. 
We  may  waver  between  affirming  that  this  is  a  real  dia- 
mond and  denying  it,  in  which  case  we  are  said  to  suspend 
our  judgment.  The  mental  state  thus  induced  is  one  of 
doubt.*  Thus  I  may  feel  altogether  uncertain  whether  it 
is  going  to  rain  or  not,  and  so  can  not  be  said  to  form  any 
judgment  about  the  matter.  This  state  of  mind  is  op- 
posed to  and  excludes  the  state  of  belief  or  definite  assur- 
ance. When  we  definitely  make  up  our  mind  about  a 
matter,  we  say  we  "are  satisfied  "  that  it  is  so  ;  and  this  ex- 
pression shows  that  our  minds  are  at  rest,  and  we  feel 
ready  to  act.  When,  on  the  contrary,  we  doubt,  our  minds 
are  pulled  in  two  directions,  there  is  a  sense  of  conflict  or 
discord,  and  action  is  impossible.  Doubt  is  a  more  com- 
plex mental  state  than  belief,  involving  a  grasp  of  a  plural- 
ity of  opposing  considerations.  Hence  it  shows  itself 
later  in  the  history  of  the  child. 

Extent  of  Judgment.— The  distinction  between  af- 
firmative and  negative  judgments  is  called  one  of  quality. 
In  addition  to  this,  logicians  recognize  a  distinction  of 
quantity^  or  extent.  Thus  some  propositions  affirm  or  deny 
something  of  an  individual  thing,  as,  "  This  is  a  shell." 
These  are  called  singular  propositions.  Others,  again, 
predicate  something  of  classes  of  things.  Of  these  some 
affirm  about  a  whole  class,  as,  "  All  shells  are  built  by  ani- 
mals."    These  are  universal  propositions.     Others,  again, 

*  The  etymology  of  the  word  {dubio,  from  duo,  cf.  German  zweifeln^ 
from  zwd)  suggests  this  oscillation  of  mind  between  two  conflicting 
alternatives. 


246  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

assert  something  about  a  portion  of  a  class,  as,  "  Some  (or 
many)  shells  are  found  in  the  sea."  These  are  known  as 
particular  propositions. 

It  is  obvious  that  these  judgments  differ  greatly  in  their 
value.  The  most  important  class  of  judgments  are  the 
universal.  These  are  far  more  difficult  to  reach  than  sin- 
gular or  particular  judgments.  And  it  is  by  help  of  these, 
as  we  shall  see  presently,  that  we  are  able  to  reason  clear- 
ly and  securely. 

Perfection  of  Judgments :  Clearness. — Our  judg- 
ments, like  our  notions,  have  different  perfections  or  ex- 
cellences. And  according  to  the  degree  in  which  these 
manifest  themselves  we  say  that  a  person  has  a  high  or  low 
power  of  judgment. 

Of  these  perfections  the  first  is  clearness.  By  this  is 
meant  that  the  concepts  combined  in  the  judgment  be  dis- 
tinct, and  that  the  relations  involved  be  distinctly  appre- 
hended. Want  of  distinctness  in  terms  leads  to  indefinite- 
ness  in  statement.  The  judgment,  "  Vice  is  debasing,"  has 
just  as  much  clearness  to  a  boy's  mind  as  belongs  to  the 
ideas  "vice"  and  "debasing."  Not  only  so,  a  judgment 
can  not  be  clear  unless  the  mind  discerns  all  that  is  imme- 
diately implied  in  the  assertion,  the  equivalence  of  the  as- 
sertion to  other  verbally  unlike  statements,  and  its  incom- 
patibility with  other  contradictory  statements. 

Judgments  tend  to  be  indistinct  in  a  number  of  ways. 
A  common  source  of  indefiniteness  is  imperfect  observa- 
tion, which  may  give  rise  to  the  vague  apprehension  of 
some  relation  of  things,  though  the  exact  nature  of  this 
relation  is  not  made  clear  to  the  mind.  Thus  if  a  boy 
fails  to  observe  how  an  object  was  situated  relatively  to 
other  adjacent  objects,  or  what  was  the  exact  order  of 
events  in  a  natural  process,  he  is  not  in  a  position  to 
judge  about  it.  Again,  defects  of  memory,  by  leading  to 
indistinct  reproduction,  are  a  great  obstacle  to  clearness  of 
judgment.     If  the  mind  fails  to  recall  the  exact  qualities 


HINDRANCES   TO  JUDGMENT.  247 

of  things,  it  will  be  incapable  of  making  definite  assertions 
about  them. 

Again,  it  is  to  be  noted  that,  as  in  the  case  of  concepts^ 
so  in  that  of  judgments,  what  was  once  clear  may  become 
hazy  or  indefinite  by  the  separation  of  words  and  ideas. 
When  a  boy  forgets  the  facts  on  which  a  principle  is 
based,  he  has  no  longer  a  clear  perception  of  its  reality  and 
truth.  In  this  way  truths,  at  first  clearly  apprehended,  may 
in  time,  by  mechanical  repetition,  pass  into  lifeless  formulae, 
in  which  there  is  no  clear  apprehension  of  the  contents 
and  no  vivid  belief. 

Once  more,  the  intrusion  of  feeling  into  the  intellectual 
domain  inevitably  leads  to  vagueness  of  judgment. 
Strong  feeling  is  incompatible  with  careful  observation,  fine 
discrimination  of  ideas,  etc.  Judgments  passed  under  the 
influence  of  strong  emotion  are  in  general  character- 
ized by  vagueness  and  exaggeration. 

Vagueness  of  judgment  is  apt  to  show  itself  in  a  special 
degree  in  those  baliefs  and  opinions  which  we  passively 
adopt  from  others  without  seeking  to  make  them  our  own 
by  personal  observation  and  reflection.  A  too  easy  habit 
of  donning  the  prevailing  views  of  those  about  us  is  fatal 
to  the  exercise  of  a  clear  judgment. 

Accuracy  of  Judgment. — Again,  our  judgments, 
like  our  notions,  may  be  accurate  or  inaccurate.  An  ac- 
curate judgment  is  one  which  corresponds  precisely  to  the 
realities  represented,  or  which  faithfully  expresses  the  re- 
lations of  things.  Want  of  clearness  in  judging  leads  on 
naturally  to  looseness  of  judgment.  Propositions  which 
are  not  clearly  understood  tend  to  be  w/^understood. 
The  more  flagrant  forms  of  inaccuracy  arise  from  inaccu- 
rate observation  and  inexact  reproduction.  Strong  feel- 
ing, too,  may  bring  about  a  considerable  divergence  of 
statement  from  reality. 

In  addition  to  these  sources  of  inaccuracy,  we  have  to 
recognize  the  imperfections  and  limitations  of  each  mdi- 


248  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

vidual's  experience.  Our  judgments  are  the  outcome  of 
our  special  type  of  experience,  our  individual  associations. 
Accuracy  of  judgment  thus  presupposes  the  interaction  of 
the  individual  and  the  social  intelligence.  The  child  has 
continually  to  rectify  his  judgments  about  things  by  a 
reference  to  the  standard  of  common  experience. 

Other  Merits  of  Judgment.— Besides  clearness  and 
accuracy  of  judgment  there  are  other  excellences  arising 
out  of  the  way  in  which  the  mind  decides  and  abides  by 
its  decisions.  Thus  a  certain  degree  of  promptness  in 
decision  is  a  condition  of  a  good  faculty  of  judging.  A 
mind  drawn  hither  and  thither  by  conflicting  tendencies, 
and  unable  to  master  these,  is  weak  in  judgment.  Chil- 
dren are  often  unable  to  decide  which  is  pleasantest  or 
best,  just  because  their  minds  are  mastered  by  the  con- 
tending ideas.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  the  opposite 
fault  of  impulsiveness  or  rashness,  that  is  to  say,  an  over- 
eagerness  in  coming  to  a  decision,  accompanied  by  an  im- 
patience of  the  delay  involved  in  reflecting,  weighing 
evidence,  etc.  This  is  still  more  common  in  children 
than  the  other  defect.  A  good  faculty  of  judgment  com- 
bines promptness  with  deliberateness. 

Again,  a  decision  is  good  when  it  is  more  than  moment- 
ary, and  exhibits  a  certain  degree  of  stability.  It  is 
natural  and  proper  that  a  decision  when  arrived  at  should 
persist.  Such  persistence  is  clearly  necessary  to  fixity  of 
opinion  about  things,  and  to  the  maintenance  of  consist- 
ency among  our  beliefs.  To  assert  one  thing  to-day  and 
another  thing  to-morrow  shows  a  feeble  and  untrained 
faculty  of  judgment.  Vacillation  in  opinion,  e.  g.,  about 
the  worth  of  things,  the  characters  of  others,  and  so  forth, 
is  common  in  the  unformed  mental  state  of  childhood. 
On  the  other  hand,  our  judgments  are  liable  to  be  modi- 
fied by  new  influences,  whether  new  facts  of  experience, 
new  communications  from  others,  or,  finally,  further  pro- 
cesses of  reflection  on  our  data.     Hence,  if  firmness  and 


INDEPENDENCE  IN  JUDGMENT.  249 

consistency  of  judgment  are  a  merit,  obstinacy  is  clearly  a 
defect.  Persons  of  narrow  experience  and  rigid  mental 
habits  show  this  narrowness.  In  children  this  rigidity  is 
rare.  Openness  of  mind  is  proper  to  the  stage  of  igno- 
rance. The  first  condition  of  mental  growth  is  that  we 
keep  our  minds  open  to  new  impressions,  and  the  longer 
we  retain  something  of  the  child's  susceptibility  to  new 
impressions,  the  longer  shall  we  continue  to  grow.  Ex- 
cellence of  judgment  is  thus  seen  here,  too,  to  lie  between 
two  extremes,  viz.,  instability  and  obstinacy. 

Closely  related  to  the  quality  of  stability  is  that  of  in- 
dependence. When  there  is  no  strong  individual  opinion, 
the  mind  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  social  surroundings  of  the 
time.  Children  of  a  less  robust  character  are  prone  to  an 
excessive  leaning  on  the  judgments  of  their  parents  or 
companions.  On  the  other  hand,  a  disregard  of  the  be- 
liefs of  others  is  the  mark  of  an  obstinate  and  intractable 
intelligence.  An  opinionated,  priggish  child,  that  is  above 
correction  by  others,  is  as  disagreeable  as  it  is  happily  rare. 
Here,  again,  excellence  of  judgment  lies  between  two  ex- 
tremes. A  mind  that  judges  well  about  things  combines 
a  measure  of  intellectual  independence  with  a  due  regard 
for  the  claims  of  others'  convictions. 

Inference  and  Reasoning. — Whenever  the  mind 
passes  from  one  fact  to  another,  regarding  the  first  as  a 
sign  of  the  second  and  accepting  it  previously  to  actual 
observation,  it  is  said  to  infer.  Thus  we  infer  when  we 
notice  that  the  sky  is  overcast,  and  predict  a  shower  of 
rain.  The  belief  in  the  coming  shower  is  produced  by 
the  observation  of  something  which  our  experience  has 
led  us  to  regard  as  a  mark  of  this  event. 

It  is  evident  from  this  example  that  inference  is  based 
on  the  detection  of  similarity  among  facts  or  experiences. 
Thus  I  predict  the  shower  because  I  identify  the  present 
aspect  of  the  sky  with  previously  observed  appearances 
which  were  actually  followed  by  rain.     In  recognizing  a 


250  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

part  of  the  whole  present  situation,  viz.,  the  lowering  sky 
as  similar  to  the  previous  one,  I  recognize  the  other  parts, 
viz.,  what  followed,  the  rain.  In  inference,  we  identify 
things  or  events  in  their  connection  with  or  their  relation 
to  other  things  or  events,  and  so  are  able  to  go  beyond 
what  we  actually  see  at  the  moment — the  known — to  what 
we  do  not  see — the  unknown. 

Inference  may  assume  a  lower  or  a  higher  form.  In 
the  former,  the  mind  passes  at  once  from  particular  facts 
in  past  experience  to  other  facts,  without  clearly  setting 
forth  the  ground  or  reason  of  the  conclusion.  Thus  a 
child  infers  that  this  water  will  wet,  this  grown-up  person 
be  able  to  tell  him  something  he  wants  to  know,  and  so 
forth,  without  making  clear  to  his  mind  the  general  truth 
that  all  water  wets,  or  that  grown-up  people  are  in  general 
superior  in  knowledge  to  children.  This  way  of  inferring 
from  particulars  to  particulars  may  be  called  implicit 
reasoning.  It  is  the  primitive  and  instinctive  mode  of 
inference.  The  lower  animals,  when  inferring  as  to  the 
proximity  of  prey,  enemies,  and  so  forth,  do  so  in  this 
way.  And  children,  before  they  acquire  the  use  of  gen- 
eral language  and  abstract  ideas,  habitually  draw  conclu- 
sions in  this  informal  manner.  From  this  primitive  and 
informal  inference  we  have  to  distinguish  explicit,  formal, 
or  logical  reasoning.  In  this  process  the  mind  distinctly 
seizes  a  general  truth  and  makes  this  the  ground  of  its 
conclusion.  Thus,  when  a  child  grows  in  intelligence,  he 
will  learn  and  understand  that  adults  are  better  informed 
than  children  ;  and,  seizing  this  truth,  he  will  be  able  to 
reason  that  any  given  individual  will  show  the  same  char- 
acteristics. 

The  advantages  of  this  formal  procedure  are  apparent. 
So  long  as  a  child  passes  directly  from  one  fact  to  another 
on  the  ground  of  similarity  or  analogy,  his  conclusion  is 
more  or  less  precarious.  If,  for  example,  a  boy  infers  that 
a  piece  of  wood  will  float  because  other  pieces  have  float- 


THE  ELEMENT  OF  INFERENCE.  25 1 

ed,  he  may  make  a  mistake.  If,  however,  he  first  satisfies 
himself  on  the  general  question  whether  all  sorts  of  wood 
float,  he  will  be  able  to  conclude  with  certainty.  These 
advantages  of  definiteness  and  certainty  lead  to  the 
gradual  adoption  of  the  higher  and  logical  form  of  rea- 
soning, so  far  as  it  can  be  made  use  of.  All  the  higher 
processes  of  thought,  including  the  whole  of  what  we 
mean  by  science,  are  illustrations  of  explicit  or  logical 
reasoning. 

Relation  of  Judging  to  Reasoning. — We  may 
now  understand  the  relation  of  judging  to  inferring.  In 
its  higher  or  more  developed  form  reasoning  presupposes 
judging.  Formally  considered,  reasoning  is  passing  from 
certain  judgments  to  other  judgments.  Thus,  before  a 
boy  can  explicitly  argue  that  a  particular  substance  will 
float  in  water,  he  must  have  already  judged  that  all  sub- 
stances of  a  certain  order  (e.  g.,  those  lighter  than  water) 
will  do  so. 

While,  however,  judgment  is  thus  necessary  to  formal 
reasoning,  there  is  an  element  of  inference  in  most,  if  not 
all,  our  processes  of  judging.  Thus,  in  the  simple  act  of 
recognizing  an  object  by  certain  marks,  the  mind  com- 
monly goes  beyond  what  is  actually  observed  at  the  mo- 
ment. If,  for  instance,  I  say,  "  This  is  a  flint,"  I  virtually 
assert  that  it  is  hard,  that  I  can  strike  sparks  out  of  it,  and 
so  forth.  And  this  ingredient  of  inference  becomes  much 
more  distinct  in  certain  complicated  processes  of  judging, 
e.  g.,  as  to  the  genuineness  of  a  coin  or  a  picture.*  Finally, 
it  is  plain  that  every  process  of  reasoning  ends  in  a  judg- 
ment as  its  result  or  conclusion.  In  this  way  our  reason- 
ing processes  help  us  in  reaching  our  judgments ;  while, 
reciprocally,  our  judgments,  when  reached,  become  start- 

*  Our  every-day  judgments  about  matters  of  probability  are  really 
inferences  from  past  experience,  often  of  an  "  instinctive  "  or  semi- 
conscious character,  but  capable,  to  some  extent,  of  being  set  forth 
formally  according  to  certain  laws  or  principles  of  probability. 


252  JUDGING  AND  REASONING, 

ing-points  for  new  processes  of  reasoning.  The  relation 
is  one  of  mutual  dependence,  similar  to  that  between  con- 
ception and  judging. 

Inductive  and  Deductive  Reasoning. — The  full 
explicit  process  of  reasoning  by  way  of  a  universal  judg- 
ment is  commonly  said  to  fall  into  two  parts  or  stages. 
{a)  Of  these,  the  first  is  the  operation  of  reaching  a  general 
truth  or  principle  by  an  examination  and  comparison  of 
facts :  this  is  known  as  induction,  {b)  The  second  stage 
is  the  operation  of  applying  the  truth  thus  reached  to 
some  particular  case :  this  is  known  as  deduction.  In- 
duction is  an  upward  movement  of  thought  from  particu- 
lar instances  to  a  general  truth,  principle,  or  law ;  deduc- 
tion a  downward  movement  from  some  general  principle 
to  a  particular  conclusion. 

(A)  Nature  of  Inductive  Reasoning.— The  pro- 
cess of  inductive  reasoning  illustrates  the  fundamental 
activity  that  underlies  all  thinking,  viz.,  the  detecting  of 
similarity  amid  diversity.  Let  us  examine  an  instance  of 
deductive  reasoning.  The  child  observes  that  his  toys, 
spoons,  knives,  he  himself,  and  a  vast  multitude  of  other 
objects,  when  not  supported,  fall.  He  gradually  compares 
these  facts  one  with  another,  and  seizes  the  essential  cir- 
cumstance in  them,  and  the  general  truth  implied  in 
them.  He  notes  that  what  all  these  things  have  in  com- 
mon is  that  they  are  material  bodies.  He  then  detaches 
this  circumstance,  and  along  with  it  the  incident  (falling 
to  the  ground)  which  has  invariably  accompanied  it. 
That  is  to  say,  he  judges  that  all  material  bodies  tend  to 
fall. 

It  is  obvious  that,  in  reaching  this  universal  truth,  the 
young  investigator  is  going  far  beyond  the  limits  of  actual 
observation.  For  the  proposition  includes  every  or  any 
material  body  wherever  met  with.  It  is  thus  a  process  of 
inference,  and  its  result  a  conclusion. 

The  process  is  clearly  related  to  that  of  generalization 


CHILDISH  INDUCTIONS.  253 

described  above.*  In  each  case  we  trace  out  a  similarity 
among  a  diversity  of  things.  The  difference  is  that,  where- 
as in  the  case  of  generalization  we  assimilate  things  merely 
as  such,  in  the  case  of  induction  we  assimilate  things  viewed 
in  their  connection  with  some  other  thing.  Moreover,  just 
as  there  are  higher  and  lower  conceptions,  so  there  are 
higher  and  lower  inductions.  The  child  begins  with  a 
number  of  narrow  inductions,  e.  g.,  "  Flies  die,"  "  Birds 
die,"  and  so  forth.  He  then  compares  these  one  with 
another,  and,  extracting  what  is  common  to  them,  reaches 
the  higher  truth,  "  All  animals  die."  Later  on  he  couples 
this  with  the  kindred  truth  similarly  reached,  "  All  plants 
die,"  and  so  arrives  at  the  yet  more  comprehensive  induc- 
tion, "All  living  things  die." 

Spontaneous  Induction. — Although  children  com- 
monly draw  inferences  directly  from  particulars,  they  show, 
when  they  acquire  the  power  of  abstraction  and  the  com- 
mand of  words,  a  tendency  to  draw  general  conclusions 
from  the  facts  of  their  experience.  An  instance  or  two, 
especially  if  they  are  striking  and  impressive,  may  suffice 
to  beget  the  inference  to  a  general  rule.  One  experience 
of  the  burning  properties  of  fire  is  enough  for  an  induc- 
tion :  "  The  burnt  child  dreads  the  fire."  This  natural 
impulse  leads  in  early  life  to  hasty  induction.  Here  is  an 
example  :  A  boy  of  two  and  a  half  was  accustomed  to 
dwell  on  the  fact  that  he  would  in  time  grow  to  be  big. 
One  day,  as  he  was  using  a  small  stick  as  a  walking  stick, 
his  mother  told  him  it  was  too  small  ;  on  which  he  at  once 
remarked,  "  Me  use  it  for  walking-stick  when  stick  be  big- 
ger." He  had  implicitly  argued  that  all  things  tend  to 
grow  bigger  in  time.  The  inductions  of  the  young  and  of 
the  uneducated  are  often  of  this  type.  The  tendency  of 
all  of  us  is  to  argue  that  what  is  true  of  ourselves,  and  of 

*  Indeed,  induction  is  often  called  generalization,  as  when  we  speak 

of  "  a  hasty  generalization,"  meaning  a  gen£V{!^^UaiieiMt'iZQ^;Uy  built 

up  from  fact  or  experience.  J^^^^^^^Z^^"^^ 

^  ^"^^^   OP  THI? 


UBri7ERSITT 


03r 


254  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

our  own  little  sphere  of  observation,  is  true  of  mankind 
and  of  things  generally. 

Regulated  Induction. — This  natural  impulse  to  build 
up  general  conclusions  on  a  narrow  and  precarious  basis 
becomes  corrected  by  wider  experience  as  well  as  by  edu- 
cation. Thus  the  child  that  argues  that  all  nurseries  have 
a  rocking-horse  like  his  own,  that  all  dogs  take  to  the 
water,  and  so  on,  learns,  either  by  his  own  observations  or 
from  what  others  tell  him,  that  his  conclusion  is  hasty  and 
inaccurate.  Pulled  up,  so  to  speak,  in  his  early  attempts 
to  reach  a  general  truth,  he  grows  more  cautious.  The 
impulse  to  comprehend  particular  facts  under  a  general 
truth  is  not  arrested;  it  is  simply  guided  and  controlled. 
Induction  now  proceeds  in  a  more  circumspect  and  me- 
thodical manner.  The  young  inquirer  takes  pains  to  col- 
lect a  wider  variety  of  observations,  and  so  learns  to  dis- 
tinguish between  what  is  true  of  a  part  of  a  class  and  what 
is  true  universally.  Not  only  so,  he  examines  the  instances 
he  thus  collects  more  closely,  in  order  to  ascertain  their 
deeper  and  essential,  as  distinguished  from  their  super- 
ficial and  accidental,  resemblances.  Thus,  for  example, 
he  finds  out  that  the  fact  of  growth  is  connected  with  life, 
and  he  will  consequently  restrict  the  idea  to  living  things. 

Induction  and  Causation. — Among  the  most  im- 
portant truths  reached  by  way  of  this  process  of  inductive 
comparison  are  those  having  to  do  with  the  causes  of 
things.  In  order  to  produce  any  result,  we  must  know  the 
conditions  which  regulate  or  determine  it.  We  can  only 
predict  events  with  certainty  when  we  know  the  circum- 
stances on  which  they  depend.  Hence,  inquiry  into  the 
causes  of  things  has  always  constituted  a  chief  part  of 
human  investigation.  This  is  seen  in  the  very  use  of  the 
word  **  reason."  To  find  the  reason  for  an  occurrence 
commonly  means  to  ascertain  its  cause,  and  so  to  explain 
how  it  happened  or  was  brought  about. 

Children's  Idea  of  Cause.— The  child's  daily  ex- 


DEVELOPING    THE  IDEA   OF  CAUSE.       255 

perience  is  continually  presenting  events  or  occurrences 
in  a  certain  order.  Thus  he  soon  finds  out  that  food  satis- 
fies hunger,  that  water  quenches  thirst,  that  a  hard  blow 
gives  him  pain,  and  so  on.  He  soon  learns,  too,  that  his 
own  actions  produce  certain  results.  Thus  he  discovers 
that  he  can  break  a  stick  (if  not  too  stout)  by  bending  it, 
that  he  can  open  the  door  by  turning  the  handle  and  then 
pulling  (or  pushing),  etc.^  Later  on  he  observes  that  things 
about  him  are  related  to  one  another  in  the  same  way  ;  for 
instance,  that  the  appearance  of  the  sun  is  connected  with 
daylight,  of  rain  with  muddy  streets.  Numerous  experi- 
ences of  this  kind  gradually  suggest  to  his  mind  the  idea 
of  cause.  He  then  goes  beyond  the  limits  of  the  cases  of 
causal  dependence  which  he  has  actually  observed,  and 
mounts  to  the  universal  principle  :  everything  that  happens 
has  its  cause. 

There  is  good  reason  to  suppose  that  the  child  molds 
his  first  idea  of  cause  on  the  pattern  of  his  own  actions 
and  their  results.  The  first  inquiries  of  young  children, 
"  Who  made  the  snow  ?  **  "  Who  made  the  flowers  grow  ?  " 
and  so  forth,  point  to  this  conclusion.  The  production  of 
any  natural  result  is  thought  of  as  brought  about  by  a  con- 
scious action  analogous  to  his  own  actions.  The  full  de- 
velopment of  this  idea  is  seen  in  the  common  supposition 
of  young  children  that  everything  has  its  use  or  purpose. 
The  meaning  of  the  question  "  Why  ?  "  in  the  mouth  of  a 
child  of  three  or  four  seems  equivalent  to,  "  For  what  pur- 
pose or  end  ?  **  It  is  only  after  a  certain  development  of 
intelligence  has  been  attained  that  children  learn  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  sphere  of  human  action  with  its  pur- 
pose or  end,  and  that  of  natural  or  physical  causation. 

Natural  Reasoning  about  Causes.— The  natural 
impulse  of  the  young  to  rise  from  particulars  to  generalities 
is  illustrated  in  a  peculiarly  striking  manner  in  their  in- 
ferences as  to  the  causes  of  things.  The  early  age  at  which 
they  begin  to  inquire  into  the  causes  of  events  favors  the 


256  JUDGING  AND  REASONING, 

hypothesis  that  they  have  an  inherited  disposition  to  think 
in  this  way,  that  is  to  say,  to  view  events  as  dependent  on 
certain  antecedent  conditions.  The  play  of  this  natural 
impulse  results  in  many  hasty  inductions.  A  very  slight 
analogy  between  things  often  leads  a  child  to  conclude 
that  they  have  the  same  cause  or  can  be  acted  upon  by 
the  same  forces.  This  shows  itself  in  an  amusing  form  in 
the  early  reasonings  of  children.  Thus  a  boy  two  years 
and  ten  months  old  said  one  day  he  would  put  water  on 
some  bits  of  bread  lying  on  his  plate  in  order  to  get  rid 
of  them.  He  here  reasoned  badly  from  the  analogy  of 
dissolving  sugar  in  milk,  etc. 

Hasty  induction  with  respect  to  causes  shows  itself, 
too,  in  other  ways.  The  desire  to  find  some  cause  for  a 
thing  often  leads  to  the  fixing  of  the  mind  on  any  attend- 
ant circumstance,  though  this  may  be  only  accidentally 
present  in  the  case,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  effect 
produced.  Thus  a  little  boy  of  two  once  argued  that  milk 
was  white  because  it  came  from  a  white  cow  which  he  had 
happened  to  see  ;  and  on  another  occasion,  finding  his 
milk  cold,  he  said,  "Cold  cow  make  milk  cold."  * 

Again,  the  mind  is  apt  to  argue  that  a  thing  is  always 
produced  by  one  and  the  same  cause,  and  this  leads  to 
error.  Thus  a  child  when  just  two  years  old,  having  one 
day  scratched  himself,  and,  being  asked  how  the  blood 
came  on  his  hands,  said,  **  Fell  down  on  path,"  and  a  few 
months  later  the  same  child  argued  that  the  slipping  off 
of  his  glove  was  the  result  of  the  wind  blowing  it  off.  In 
these  cases  the  impulse  to  account  for  things  by  aid  of 
causes  already  known  led  to  a  total  neglect  of  observation. 
Children  argue  that  all  pretty  things  are  bought  in  shops, 
that  plants  injured  by  the  wind  have  been  broken  by  hu- 
man hands,  and  can  be  mended  by  the  same,  and  so  forth. 

*  It  is  probable  that  each  of  these  hasty  inferences  was  based  on 
observations  of  the  transmission  of  a  quality  or  state  from  one  body  to 
auother. 


INDUCTIVE  REASONING.  257 

Regulated  Reasoning  about  Causes. — The  care- 
ful discovery  of  causes  is  often  a  very  difficult  process, 
and  always  implies  an  orderly  method  of  procedure. 
This  is  seen  in  its  perfect  form  in  scientific  investigation.* 
Among  the  more  important  processes  here  involved  are  a 
careful  observation  and  retention  of  a  variety  of  instances 
of  the  effect  produced,  and  further  a  painstaking  analysis 
of  these  instances,  and  a  discrimination  of  what  is  invaria- 
ble and  essential  in  the  circumstances  from  what  is  varia- 
ble and  accidental.  Thus,  in  order  to  ascertain  the  causes 
of  combustion,  we  compare  numerous  instances,  as  the 
burning  of  coal  in  the  grate,  the  gas  flame,  and  so  forth, 
and  by  analyzing  these,  and  eliminating  what  is  accidental, 
arrive  at  the  common  circumstance,  the  presence  of  cer- 
tain combustible  substances,  and  of  oxygen,  with  which 
these  tend  to  combine. 

The  process  of  scientific  induction  implies,  further, 
active  experimenting  with  things.  By  this  means  we  can 
vary  the  surroundings  of  the  phenomenon  or  process  we 
are  observing  as  we  like ;  and  by  so  doing  are  far  better 
able  to  ascertain  what  circumstances  can  be  taken  away 
or  eliminated  without  affecting  the  result,  and  what  can 
not.  Thus,  in  inquiring  into  the  cause  of  combination,  we 
find  that  the  nitrogen  of  the  air  can  be  removed  and  the 
process  of  combustion  still  go  on,  while  the  oxygen  can 
not  thus  be  dispensed  with. 

It  is  evident,  from  this  brief  inquiry  into  inductive  rea- 
soning, that,  in  order  to  carry  out  the  process  properly, 
much  care  and  industry  are  needed.  Good  induction 
presupposes  a  trained  faculty  of  observation.  A  thorough 
examination  of  facts  includes  two  things :  (a)  the  inspec- 
tion of  a  sufficient  number  of  instances,  and  ij?)  the  ade- 
quate scrutiny  and  analysis  of  the  facts  that  are  observed. 

*  The  term  "  induction  "  is  commonly  restricted  to  this  orderly  and 
exact  type  of  investigation,  the  term  "  generalization  "  being  used  for 
rough  every-day  modes  of  reaching  general  propositions. 


258  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

A  defect  in  respect  of  the  first  condition  leads  to  "  hasty 
generalizing,"  as  when  a  child  says  that  his  parent  or 
teacher  is  unfair  by  confining  his  attention  to  one  or  two 
ambiguous  cases,  and  not  considering  his  general  manner 
of  acting.  A  defect  in  respeci  of  the  second  condition 
tends  to  beget  misapprehension,  as  when  the  child  calls 
his  teacher  unfair  on  the  ground  of  one  or  more  actions, 
a  deeper  examination  of  which  would  show  that  there  was 
no  real  injustice  involved.  Finally,  the  due  performance 
of  the  inductive  process  implies  that  the  investigator 
keeps  his  mind  free  from  prepossession  and  bias,  ready  to 
accept  any  truth  which  the  facts  reveal  to  him,  whether 
they  answer  to  his  expectations  and  his  particular  inclina- 
tions or  not.* 

*  The  reader  should  note  the  close  correspondence  between  the 
sources  of  erroneous  induction  and  those  of  inaccurate  conception 
mentioned  above. 


V£ 


;hapter  XV. 

JUDGING  AND  REASONING  {continued). 

Deductive  Reasoning. — By  induction  the  child 
reaches  a  large  amount  of  general  knowledge  about 
things,  including  the  properties  of  substances,  the  causes 
of  changes  in  things,  the  laws  that  govern  human  action, 
and  the  simpler  truths  of  space,  quantity,  and  number.  In 
arriving  at  these,  he  is  of  course  greatly  aided  by  others* 
instruction,  and  in  many  cases  he  derives  his  general 
knowledge  in  the  first  instance  exclusively  from  what 
others  tell  him.  Having  thus  amassed  a  quantity  of  gen- 
eral knowledge,  he  is  able  to  pass  on  to  the  second  stage 
of  explicit  reasoning,  namely,  deduction.  By  this  is 
meant  reasoning  downward  from  a  general  truth  or  prin- 
ciple to  some  particular  case  or  class  of  cases.  Thus  a 
child  who  has  found  out,  partly  by  observation  and  partly 
by  instruction,  that  all  persons  are  liable  to  make  mis- 
takes, is  apt  to  apply  the  truth  by  arguing  that  his  mother 
or  his  governess  makes  mistakes.  The  type  of  deductive 
reasoning  when  fully  set  forth  is  known  as  a  syllogism, 
and  is  as  follows : 

All  animals  suffer  pain. 
Flies  are  animals. 
Therefore  they  suffer  pain. 

Or  for  negative  arguments  : 

No  lazy  children  get  on. 
This  is  a  lazy  child. 
Therefore  he  will  not  get  on. 
i8 


26o  JUDGING  AND  REASONING, 

The  essential  process  here,  as  in  induction,  is  detect- 
ing similarity  or  assimilation.  We  bring  a  particular  case 
(e.  g.,  flies)  under  the  general  rule  or  principle  (animal 
suffering)  ;  and  we  do  this  because  we  recognize  identity 
between  the  particular  case  and  the  cases  included  under 
the  general  rule. 

While  the  recognition  of  likeness  is  thus  the  essential 
process  in  deduction,  discrimination  plays  an  important 
subordinate  part.  In  all  arguments  by  which  we  read 
negative  conclusions,  we  are  especially  engaged  in  distin- 
guishing things,  qualities,  or  promises  which  difler.  Thus 
when  a  parent,  reasoning  with  his  child,  says,  **  That  boy  is 
not  a  gentleman,  for  no  real  gentleman  despises  the  poor," 
he  is  distinguishing  between  the  genuine  marks  of  a  gentle- 
man and  those  which  point  to  a  vulgar,  ungentlemanly 
type  of  mind. 

Application  of  Principles  and  Explanations.— 
Deductive  reasoning  may  begin  at  one  of  two  ends.  We 
may  have  a  principle  given  us  and  be  asked  to  draw  con- 
clusions from  it.  This  is  applying  a  principle,  or  finding 
out  new  illustrations  of  a  truth.  New  discoveries  may  be 
made  by  a  skillful  combining  of  truths  already  known. 
Thus,  for  example,  a  child,  after  being  told,  or  having  dis- 
covered, that  air  has  weight,  and  that  it  is  elastic  or  com- 
pressible, might  find  out  for  himself  that  the  lower  strata 
must  be  denser  than  the  higher.  In  this  way  the  mind  is 
able  to  anticipate  observation,  and  to  conclude  beforehand 
as  to  how  things  will  happen. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  may  set  out  not  with  a  general 
truth,  but  with  a  particular  fact  or  statement,  and  seek  for 
some  more  general  truth  under  which  it  may  be  brought. 
This  is  known  as  explanation.  Explanation,  in  its  sim- 
plest form,  is  throwing  light  on  a  new  and  unfamiliar  fact 
by  pointing  out  its  analogy  to  some  familiar  fact.  This  is 
the  only  explanation  possible  in  the  case  of  young  children 
who  can  not  yet  grasp  general  principles.     A  higher  kind 


REASONING  A  DETECTION  OF  SIMILARITY.  261 

of  explanation  is  including  a  particular  case  under  some 
general  principle.  Thus  we  explain  a  natural  occurrence, 
as  the  trade-winds  or  the  rising  of  water  in  springs,  by  re- 
ferring to  the  known  agencies  which  produce  them.  Simi- 
larly, we  find  a  reason  for  a  statement  by  bringing  it  under 
a  more  general  rule.  Thus  the  teacher  justifies  some  com- 
mand or  prohibition,  e.  g.,  "  cribbing  "  from  another,  by 
presenting  it  as  a  special  case  of  a  more  comprehensive 
rule,  e.  g.,  unfairness  or  deceit.* 

Regulated  Deduction. — The  processes  of  deductive 
reasoning  may  lead  to  a  valid  or  invalid  conclusion.  It 
is  the  business  of  logic  to  point  out  what  conditions  must 
be  satisfied  in  order  that  a  conclusion  may  be  accepted  as 
valid. 

Without  going  into  the  technical  details  of  deductive 
error  or  fallacy,  we  may  point  out  that,  since  reasoning  is 
essentially  a  detection  of  similarity,  the  great  source  of 
erroneous  reasoning  is  confusion  of  things  that  are  not 
really  and  fundamentally  similar  ;  in  other  words,  a  want 
of  discrimination.  The  bad  reasoner  can  not  see  where 
similarity  ends  and  difference  begins.  Among  the  most 
common  errors  in  deductive  argument  are  those  arising 
from  the  ambiguity  of  terms.  When  the  mind  fails  to 
distinguish  between  different  shades  of  idea  attaching  to 
the  same  word,  it  is  exceedingly  liable  to  go  astray. 
Thus  if  it  were  argued  that,  since  all  knowledge  is  the 
result  of  self-education,  children  would  be  much  better 
for  being  left  to  themselves,  the  reasoner  might  be  con- 
victed of  confusing  two  meanings  of  self-education,  viz., 
that  of  a  gifted  youth  like  Pope,  who  takes  his  education 
into  his  own  hands,  and  that  which  every  child  can  and 
may  be  expected  to  carry  out  under  the  stimulation  mid 
guidance  of  others.  Our  very  eagerness  to  find  a  reason 
for  a  fact  may  precipitate  us  into  this  confusion  of  ideas, 

*  On  the  different  meanings  of  '*  explanation,"  see  Jevons's  "  Ele- 
mentary Lessons  in  Logic,"  chap.  xxxi. 


262  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

and  so  into  loose  reasonings.  And  any  agitation  of  feel- 
ing, by  blunting  for  a  time  the  discriminative  power,  is 
greatly  favorable  to  such  confusion  of  thought. 

This  liability  to  confused  thinking  is  furthered  by  the 
circumstance  that,  in  our  processes  of  reasoning,  words 
tend  to  become  the  substitutes  of  clear  ideas  about  things. 
A  mind  exercised  in  argument  can  easily  appreciate  the 
logical  relations  between  any  given  propositions  without 
going  to  the  trouble  of  carefully  scrutinizing  the  meaning 
of  the  terms.  Hence,  the  risk  of  accepting  what  is  told 
us  by  others  without  adequate  critical  examination  of  the 
ideas  involved.  If  there  is  only  the  appearance  of  a  log- 
ical order  in  another's  statements,  we  are  strongly  disposed 
to  accept  the  reasoning  as  valid. 

Other  Forms  of  Reasoning :  Analogy.— In  ad- 
dition to  induction  and  deduction  it  is  usual  to  specify 
other  forms  of  reasoning.  Of  these  the  most  important 
is  known  as  analogy.  When  we  reason  by  analogy  we 
perceive  a  certain  partial  resemblance  between  things, 
but  are  unable  to  detect  that  perfect  identity  in  essential 
features  or  circumstances  on  which  induction  proceeds. 
Thus  it  is  to  reason  from  analogy  to  say  that,  since  the 
relation  of  the  mother  country  to  a  colony,  or  of  a  teacher 
to  his  pupils,  resembles  that  of  a  parent  to  a  child,  the 
same  feelings  should  be  excited  in  the  former  as  in  the 
latter  case  ;  or  to  argue  that,  because  other  planets  resem- 
ble our  earth  in  certain  respects,  they  agree  with  it  further 
in  the  possession  of  living  forms. 

Since  there  is  only  a  partial  resemblance  in  these 
cases,  the  conclusion  can  never  have  the  certainty  of  a 
proper  scientific  induction.  Hence,  this  form  of  reason- 
ing should  only  be  resorted  to  where  the  processes  of 
induction  and  deduction  are  impracticable.  The  teacher 
has  often  to  illustrate  a  subject  by  analogies  and  parallel 
cases.  Mental  and  moral  qualities  are  to  a  certain  extent 
illumined  by  analogies  with  material  properties  and  pro- 


EARL  V  JUDGMENTS.  263 

cesses.  Not  only  so,  before  the  child  is  able  to  carry  out 
the  processes  of  analysis,  etc.,  necessary  to  induction,  he 
is  only  able  to  reason  from  analogy,  e.  g.,  an  unanalyzed 
perception  of  resemblance  ;  and  so  the  educator  must 
content  himself  with  partial  explanations  of  Nature's  pro- 
cesses based  on  analogy.  The  value  of  such  analogical 
reasoning  depends  on  the  detection  of  real  as  distinguished 
from  false  points  of  analogy,  and  on  its  being  resorted  to 
only  as  a  provisional  explanation,  and  a  stepping-stone  to 
a  truly  scientific  explanation. 

Development  of  Powers  of  Judging  and  Rea- 
soning.— The  processes  of  judging  and  reasoning  in 
their  clear  and  articulate  form  show  themselves  later  than 
the  process  of  conception.  A  child  a  year  old  will,  as  we 
have  seen,  name  objects,  and  form  rudimentary  notions 
about  things,  but  he  can  not  yet  form  explicit  judgments. 
In  the  early  period  of  speech  we  have  only  rude  germs  of 
affirmation,  as  when  a  child  exclaims  "  Bow-wow  !  "  (there 
is  a  dog),  or  "ot!  "  (this  food  is  hot),  and  so  forth.  An 
interesting  variety  of  these  compressed  judgments  is  the 
sign  of  disappearance  (e.  g.,  ta-ta),  which,  as  M.  Perez  re- 
marks, seems  to  imply  ceasing  to  exist.*  The  first  ex- 
plicit judgments  are  concerned  with  individual  objects. 
The  child  notes  something  unexpected  or  surprising  in  an 
object,  and  expresses  the  result  of  his  observation  in  a 
judgment.  Thus,  for  example,  a  child,  whom  we  may 
call  C,  was  first  observed  to  frame  a  distinct  judgment 
when  nineteen  months  old,  by  saying  "  Dit  ki  "  (sister  is 
crying). 

These  first  judgments  have  to  do  mainly  with  the 
child's  food,  or  other  things  of  supreme  practical  interest 
to  him.  Thus,  among  the  earliest  attempts  at  combining 
words  in  propositions  made  by  C,  were  the  following : 
*'  Ka  in  milk  "  (something  nasty  in  milk)  ;  "  Milk  dare 
now  "  (there  is  still  some  milk  in  the  cup).     Toward  the 

*  '*  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p.  170. 


264  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

end  of  the  second  year  the  range  of  discernment  shows 
a  marked  extension,  the  child  coming  now  to  observe  and 
remark  on  anything  new  or  striking  in  the  objects  that 
present  themselves,  such  as  unusual  size,  position,  etc. 
Thus,  at  this  date,  C  was  observed  to  exclaim  *'  Dat  a  big 
wow- wow  "  (that  is  a  large  dog)  ;  "  Dit  naughty  "  (sister  is 
naughty)  ;  '*  Dit  gow  ga  '*  (sister  is  down  on  the  grass). 
As  the  observing  powers  grow,  and  the  child's  interest  in 
things  widens,  the  number  of  his  judgments  increases. 
And  as  his  powers  of  comparing  objects  and  detecting 
their  relations  develop,  his  judgments  gradually  take  on  a 
more  penetrating  character.  This  progress  in  affirming  is 
of  course  dependent  on  the  advance  of  the  child  in  the 
command  of  words,  and  the  constructive  skill  necessary 
to  framing  sentences.  The  transition  to  more  elaborate 
statements  shows  itself  by  the  end  of  the  second  year  in 
tentatives  of  this  type  :  "  Mama  naughty  say  dat." 

An  interesting  phase  of  this  early  stage  of  the  growth 
of  judgment  is  the  acquisition  of  the  signs  of  negation, 
**  no,"  "  not.'*  The  first  sign  of  negation  is  a  shake  of  the 
head  ;  but  this  is  used  as  a  mark  rather  of  unwillingness  or 
disinclination  than  of  logical  rejection.  C  did  not  make 
a  distinct  negative  statement  till  well  on  in  his  third 
year. 

The  employment  of  the  sign  "  no "  presupposes  a 
knowledge  of  two  alternatives  (truth  and  falsity.)  It  is 
greatly  aided  by  the  habitual  employment  of  questions. 
A  question  when  understood  brings  home  to  the  mind 
two  opposed  and  mutually  exclusive  statements.  The 
way  in  which  the  negative  particles  are  first  used  is  very 
instructive.  C  (early  in  his  third  year)  was  in  the  habit 
of  framing  a  statement  and  then  appending  the  sign  of 
negation  thus  :  "  N  [his  name  for  himself]  go  in  water — 
no."  It  was  observed,  further,  in  the  case  of  two  chil- 
dren, that  during  the  third  year  they  were  apt  to  couple 
affirmative  and  negative  statements,  e.  g.,  **  This  I's  cup, 


DEVELOPMENT  OF   THE  JUDGMENT.      265 

not  mama's  cup "  ;  "  This  a  nice  bow-wow,  not  nasty 
bow-wow."  This  suggests  that  a  child,  when  he  first 
begins  to  understand  the  meaning  of  a  negation,  feels  im- 
pelled, when  making  an  affirmation,  to  set  forth  explicitly 
the  negation  implied. 

As  intelligence  develops,  the  child's  sphere  for  judging 
is  gradually  widened.  The  exercise  of  imagination  opens 
up  to  him  many  new  subjects  to  judge  about,  e.  g.,  the 
ways  of  men  and  animals.  At  the  same  time,  the  accumu- 
lation of  the  fruits  of  his  own  experience  supplies  him 
with  fuller  means  of  judging  about  things.  Not  only  so, 
he  now  becomes  capable  of  judging  not  only  about  par- 
ticular objects,  but  about  classes.  Thus  he  picks  up  and 
repeats  the  general  statements  made  by  those  about  him, 
as,  for  example,  "  Naughty  children  play  with  the  dirt." 
The  extension  of  the  vocabulary  and  the  progress  of  ab- 
straction and  conception  gradually  lead  to  a  more  abstract 
type  of  judgment. 

The  growth  of  the  power  of  judging  is  marked  by  an 
increase  of  a  cautious  and  critical  spirit  in  relation  to 
affirmation.  Things  and  their  relations  are  more  firmly 
discriminated,  and  as  a  consequence  are  described  more 
clearly  and  minutely.  Again,  the  tendencies  to  exaggera- 
tion and  misstatement  due  to  the  influence  of  feeling  (e.  g., 
the  desire  to  astonish  or  amuse)  are  gradually  checked,  and 
so  the  judgments  gain  in  point  of  accuracy  or  fidelity  of 
representation.  Along  with  these  changes,  we  may  note 
that  the  child's  tendency  to  give  reality  to  the  produc- 
tions of  fancy  is  brought  under  restraint.  By  the  aid  of 
his  growing  experience  he  is  able  to  fashion  a  rudiment- 
ary standard  of  what  is  possible  and  impossible,  probable 
and  improbable  ;  and  as  a  result  of  this  he  becomes  more 
cautious  in  making  assertions.  Finally,  this  progress  in 
critical  discernment  shows  itself  in  examining  and  reject- 
ing what  is  unconnected  with  what  he  already  knows. 
The  approach  of  the  close  of  childhood  is  appropriately 


266  JUDGING  AND  REASONING, 

marked  by  a  considerable  increase  of  independence  in 
judging  about  things. 

Growth  of  Reasoning  Power. — In  close  connec- 
tion with  this  progress  in  judging  there  goes  on  the  devel- 
opment of  the  power  of  inferring  or  drawing  conclusions. 
At  first,  as  observed,  the  process  is  implicit,  from  particu- 
lars to  particulars,  from  one  fact  or  situation  to  another 
more  or  less  like  it.  The  first  exercise  of  the  power  is 
seen  in  doing  things,  in  adopting  means  to  ends  by  the 
help  of  analogies,  with  previous  experience.  Thus  the 
first  distinct  trace  of  a  reasoning  operation  in  the  case  of  C 
appeared  when  he  was  seventeen  months  old.  He  asked 
for  bread  and  butter  (which  he  called  "  bup  ").  Not  being 
immediately  attended  to,  he  stretched  out  his  hand  toward 
the  bread-knife  lying  on  the  table,  still  repeating  the 
sound.  This  action  of  pointing  was  manifestly  an  exten- 
sion to  a  new  case  of  the  known  results  of  pointing,  and 
moreover  implied  the  recognition  of  a  relation  between 
the  knife  and  the  satisfaction  of  his  want.  A  more  ad- 
vanced step  was  noted  at  the  end  of  the  twenty-first 
month.  His  father  told  him  not  to  eat  some  brown  sugar 
which  he  was  taking  out  of  a  bag.  He  answered  promptly 
and  emphatically  "  Ni ! "  This  was  clearly  finding  a 
reason  by  way  of  justification,  "  I  eat  it  because  it  is 
nice." 

First  Reasonings  about  Cause. — As  already  ob- 
served, the  child's  first  reasonings  about  cause  are  very 
crude.  He  snatches  from  his  past  experience  any  analo- 
gous case  in  order  to  explain  the  happening  of  things. 
This  leads  to  an  anthropomorphic  interpretation  of  events. 
For  example,  C  in  his  twenty-fourth  month  found  a  peb- 
ble in  his  box  of  bricks.  His  mother  asked  him  what  it 
was   doing  there,  and   he   replied,  "  Wa   pay  bricks."  * 

*  That  is,  "  Wants  to  play  bricks."  In  justice  to  C,  it  must  be 
added  that  he  instantly  went  on  to  reflect.  Looking  at  the  pebble,  he 
sagely  observed,  "  No  ands  "  ("  It  has  no  hands  "). 


EARLY  REASONINGS  ABOUT  CAUSE.       267 

Early  in  his  third  year  he  got  into  the  way  of  asking  who 
made  this  and  that  thing.  He  argued  that  everything 
imperfect,  such  as  a  flower  without  a  stem,  could  be 
"  mended."  Again,  noticing  pips  in  an  orange,  he  asked, 
"  Who  put  pips  there — cook  ? " 

By  the  end  of  the  third  year  a  child  is  wont  to  perplex 
his  mother  by  asking  the ''why "of  everything.  This  is 
an  important  moment,  as  indicating  the  development  of  a 
vague  general  idea  that  things  have  their  causes  and  rea- 
sons, and  are  capable  of  being  explained.  But  the  type 
of  causation  is  still  anthropomorphic.  He  looks  at  things 
as  occurring  for  a  purpose,  and  can  only  understand  them 
in  so  far  as  they  present  some  analogy  to  his  own  pur- 
posive actions. 

As  the  child's  mind  develops,  he  shows  greater  power 
in  examining  what  he  sees,  analyzing  it  into  its  constitu- 
ent parts,  and  comparing  his  experiences  one  with  another. 
In  this  way  wider  inductions  and  truths  of  a  more  abstract 
character  are  gradually  arrived  at.  At  the  same  time,  his 
power  of  discriminating  things  progresses,  and  leads  to  a 
more  careful  discernment  of  the  elements  of  his  experi- 
ences, and  so  to  greater  caution  in  making  general  state- 
ments. Thus  children  from  about  the  end  of  the  fourth 
year  may  often  be  observed  to  use  the  expressions,  "  Some 
persons,"  "  Many  persons,"  "  generally,"  and  so  forth.*  It 
is  by  the  same  progress  in  discriminative  power  that  the 
regions  of  natural  events  and  conscious  action  are  gradu- 
ally distinguished  one  from  another,  though  the  completion 
of  this  distinction  probably  falls  toward  the  end  of  child- 
hood, if  not  later.f 

The  same  line  of  remark  applies  to  the  progress  of 
deductive  reasoning.  A  boy  of  three  or  four  will  apply  a 
simple  rule  to  a  particular  example.     But  such  applica- 

*  See  a  good  instance  given  by  M.  Perez,  ibid.,  p.  177. 
f  A  girl   aged   five   years   nine   months  once    asked   her  mother, 
*'  What  makes  the  wind,  mama  ?     Is  it  a  great  big  fan  somewhere  ?  " 


268  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

tions  are  of  the  most  obvious  kind.  To  recognize  that  a 
thing  is  heavy,  and  so  capable  of  hurting,  or  that  pulling 
flies  to  pieces  is  cruel,  and  so  wrong,  demands  but  little 
power  of  tracing  out  similarity  in  the  midst  of  difference. 
The  growth  of  reasoning  power  manifests  itself  in  dis- 
covering the  less  obvious  applications  of  a  rule  or  prin- 
ciple, as  that  it  is  cruel  to  deceive  another.  This  is  the 
result  of  many  exercises  of  the  faculty.  As  the  child's 
stock  of  general  truths  increases,  he  will  find  more  and 
more  scope  for  exercising  his  reasoning  powers  in  drawing 
conclusions  from  them.  A  boy  of  five  or  six  delights  to 
apply  the  truths  he  knows  by  way  of  accounting  for  what 
he  sees.  Later  on,  after  his  powers  of  deductive  reason- 
ing have  been  thus  strengthened  in  these  comparatively 
simple  exercises,  he  will  be  able  to  perform  the  more  pro- 
longed and  difficult  feats  of  argument,  such  as  working 
out  a  demonstration  in  Euclid. 

Varieties  of  Power  of  Judging  and  Reasoning. 
— There  are  well-marked  differences  among  individuals  in 
respect  of  their  ability  to  judge  and  to  reason  about  things. 
Thus  one  person  can  more  readily  compare  any  given 
material,  part  with  part,  and  decide  on  the  particular 
point  raised.  In  the  uncertain  region  of  opinion,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  that  of  demonstrable  truth,  individuals 
display  a  surprising  amount  of  difference  in  the  way  in 
which  they  judge.*  So,  too,  we  remark  differences  in 
people's  ability  to  reason  about  things.  Thus  of  two  men 
face  to  face  with  the  same  group  of  facts,  one  will  leap 
quickly  to  the  general  law  or  principle  underlying  them, 
while  another  will  fail  to  detect  it.  Similarly,  one  man 
much  more  readily  brings  new  facts  under  old  truths  than 
another. 

These  differences,  like  those  in  the  case  of  the  other 

♦  This  fact  is  satirized  by  Pope  in  the  lines — 

"  'Tis  with  our  judgments  as  our  watches  ;  none 
Go  just  alike,  yet  each  believes  his  own." 


DIFFERENT  TYPES  OF  MIND,  269 

faculties,  are  general  or  special.  A  may  have  a  better 
faculty  of  judging  on  various  sorts  of  matter  than  B ;  or, 
as  commonly  happens,  he  will  show  a  marked  superiority 
in  a  certain  domain,  e.  g.,  practical  matters,  matters  of 
taste,  and  so  forth.  In  like  manner,  A  may  be  a  better 
all-round  reasoner  than  B,  or  show  his  superiority  in  some 
special  direction.  Thus  there  is  the  *' inductive  mind,** 
quick  in  the  observation  and  analysis  of  facts,  and  delight- 
ing to  trace  out  the  laws  of  phenomena,  the  type  of  the 
physical  inquirer.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  the  de- 
ductive or  demonstrative  mind,  given  to  dwelling  on 
abstract  truths  rather  than  on  concrete  facts,  and  skillful 
in  combining  these  into  an  orderly  argument,  the  type 
of  the  mathematician.  Not  only  so,  excellence  of  rea- 
soning power  commonly  displays  itself  in  relation  to 
some  particular  kind  of  subject-matter,  as  the  domain 
of  human  action  and  history,  geometry,  or  the  science 
of  physics.  These  differences,  like  other  intellectual 
inequalities,  turn  partly  on  inequalities  of  native  apti- 
tude, and  partly  on  differences  in  circumstances  and 
education. 

The  f>ower  of  judging  well  presupposes  a  native  ability 
to  dissect  a  subject-matter,  compare,  discriminate,  and  so 
forth.  But  it  is  a  p»ower  that  receives  much  of  its  peculiar 
character  from  experience  and  education.  Judging  is  the 
outcome  of  experience,  and  will  vary  as  this.  Not  only 
so,  a  rij>e  power  of  judgment  in  any  region  of  experience 
presupposes  special  exercise  in  that  domain.  To  judge 
on  a  doubtful  point  in  a  classification  of  plants  implies 
the  trained  botanist*s  faculty.  Similarly,  in  the  case  of 
the  ability  to  reason  well.  Individuals  are  not  at  the  out- 
set equally  endowed  with  the  powers  of  abstraction,  of 
tracing  similarity  veiled  under  superficial  difference,  nec- 
essary to  reasoning.  But  the  special  direction  of  the 
reasoning  faculty  depends  largely  on  special  practice.  A 
boy  of  an  active  and  mechanical  turn,  given  to  observing 


270  JUDGING  AND  REASONING, 

the  action  of  Nature's  forces,  will  tend  to  become  a  pro- 
ficient reasoner  in  that  domain.* 

Training  the  Faculty  of  Judgment. — The  train- 
ing of  a  child's  power  of  judging  begins  in  close  connec- 
tion with  the  exercise  of  the  observing  powers.  He 
should  be  encouraged  to  compare  the  size  and  shape  of 
objects,  to  note  the  signs  of  distance,  and  so  forth. f  He 
should  then  be  induced  to  express  the  results  of  his  obser- 
vations in  words,  to  describe  the  object  he  has  seen,  to 
narrate  something  which  has  happened  to  him.  As  sup- 
plementary to  this,  he  should  be  exercised  in  repeating 
carefully  what  he  has  heard,  and  in  accepting  and  reject- 
ing propositions.  Here  the  parent  or  teacher  should  aim 
at  caution  in  judgment.  The  natural  propensity  to  accept 
as  certain  what  chimes  in  with  our  wishes  and  inclinations 
should  be  checked. J  In  close  connection  with  this  the 
child  should  be  exercised  in  accuracy  of  statement.  The 
natural  tendency  of  the  young  to  exaggerate  needs  to  be 
carefully  watched  and  counteracted.  The  child  should  be 
accustomed  to  think  well  about  the  words  he  uses,  to  see 
all  that  is  implied  in  them,  as  well  as  all  that  is  contra- 
dicted by  them.  By  such  exercises  he  will  be  led  to  reflect 
on  his  own  mental  operations,  and  so  to  give  greater  pre- 
cision to  his  thoughts.*  And  here  a  knowledge  of  the 
logical  processes,  relations  of  propositions  included  under 
the  term  **  opposition,"  and  also  of  the  processes  of  ob- 
version   and   conversion,  will   prove    serviceable    to   the 

*  The  effect  of  practice  or  habit  in  improving  the  reasoning  power 
in  special  directions  is  well  shown  by  Locke.  ("  Of  the  Conduct  of  the 
Understanding,"  sec.  6,  pp.  20,  21.) 

f  See  Miss  Edge  worth,  "  Practical  Education,"  iii,  p.  196. 

\  "  That  point  of  self-education  which  consists  in  teaching  the 
mind  to  resist  its  desires  and  inclinations,  until  they  are  proved  to  be 
right,  is  the  most  important  of  all."     (Prof.  Faraday.) 

*  "  L'enfant  qui  s'attache  a  bicn  choisir  un  terme,  connait  et  juge 
la  pensee  qu'il  veut  exprimer ;  il  y  a  en  lui  ce  retour  de  rintelligence 
sur  cUe-merae  qui  constitue  la  reflexion."    (Madame  Necker.) 


LIMITATION  OF  JUDGMENTS,  271 

teacher.*  At  the  same  time,  this  regulation  of  judgment 
is  a  matter  of  some  delicacy.  Children  delight  in  vivid 
and  picturesque  statement,  and  a  touch  of  exaggeration  is 
perhaps  pardonable.  A  too  strict  insistence  on  precision 
in  the  early  stages  may  easily  discourage  confidence,  and 
lead  to  an  untimely  hesitation  in  judgment. 

A  perplexing  problem  in  the  training  of  the  judgment 
is  to  draw  the  line  between  excessive  individual  independ- 
ence and  undue  deference  to  authority.  The  power  of 
judging  is,  as  we  have  seen,  more  fully  exercised  when  the 
child  forms  an  opinion  for  himself  than  when  he  passively 
receives  one  from  his  mother  or  teacher.  To  exercise  the 
judgment  is  thus  to  draw  out  his  power  of  judging  for  him- 
self. And  this  can  be  very  well  done  in  certain  regions 
of  observation,  as,  for  example,  in  judging  about  the  beauty 
of  natural  objects  and  works  of  art.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  is  obvious  that,  with  respect  to  other  matters,  the  child's 
liberty  of  judging  must  be  curtailed.  It  would  not  do  to 
allow  a  young  child,  with  his  limited  experience,  to  decide 
what  is  possible  or  probable  in  a  situation  of  any  complex- 
ity, and  still  less  to  permit  him  to  pronounce  on  the  right- 
ness  or  wrongness  of  an  action.  To  combine  the  ends  of 
authority  and  of  individuality  in  respect  of  judging  re- 
quires much  wisdom  and  skill  in  the  trainer  of  the  young. 
Differences  of  children's  temperament  must  here  be  taken 
account  of.  An  indolent,  timid  child,  wanting  in  self- 
reliance,  and  disposed  to  rely  on  others  to  excess,  requires 
another  regime  from  that  suitable  to  an  over-confident 
child. 

As  the  intelligence  develops,  greater  scope  should  be 
given  the  child  for  the  exercise  of  his  judgment.  Thus,  by 
widening  the  sphere  of  his  free  activity,  the  parent  calls 
forth  his  practical  judgment.     An  important  region  for 

*  The  process  of  obversion,  by  which  every  affimative  proposition 
may  be  expressed  as  a  negative  one,  and  vice  versa^  is  dealt  with  by 
Dr.  Bain.     ("  Logic,"  '*  Deduction,"  bk.  i,  chap,  iii.) 


272  JUDGING  AND  REASONING, 

the  unfettered  play  of  the  faculty  is  that  of  matters  of  taste. 
The  child  should  be  encouraged  to  judge  for  himself  what 
is  pretty,  and  so  forth.  The  power  of  deciding  on  doubt- 
ful matters  of  motive,  wisdom,  and  testimony  may  be  ex- 
ercised by  an  intelligent  study  of  history.  Here,  too,  there 
is  scope  for  the  exercise  of  the  moral  judgment.  Finally, 
the  study  of  literature  exercises  in  a  special  way  the  critical 
or  aesthetic  judgment. 

Training  of  the  Reasoning  Powers. — The  work 
of  training  the  young  in  careful  processes  of  reasoning 
must  go  on  hand  in  hand  with  the  development  of  his 
power  of  judgment.  In  the  earliest  stage  (from  about  the 
beginning  of  the  fourth  year)  the  mother  is  called  on  to 
satisfy  the  child's  curiosity  or  desire  for  explanation.  This 
period  is  an  important  one  for  the  subsequent  development 
of  the  child.  Parents  are  apt  to  think  that  children  not 
infrequently  put  questions  in  a  half-mechanical  way,  with- 
out any  real  desire  for  an  explanation,  and  even  for  the 
sake  of  teasing.  This  view,  however,  as  we  shall  see  later 
on,  is  probably  erroneous.  Children  are  no  doubt  capri- 
cious in  their  questionings  ;  their  curiosity  is  restricted  in 
its  range,  and  momentary  in  its  duration.  Still,  their  ques- 
tionings may  in  general  be  accepted  as  expressing  at  least 
a  passing  desire  for  knowledge.  And,  so  far  as  this  is  the 
case,  it  is  well  to  heed  and  satisfy  them  so  far  as  may  be. 
It  seems  a  good  rule  to  give  an  explanation  wherever  the 
nature  of  the  subject  allows  of  a  simple  one.  This  is 
Locke's  advice,  *'  Encourage  his  inquisitiveness  all  you  can, 
by  satisfying  his  demands  and  informing  his  judgment,  as 
far  as  it  is  capable  '*  ("  Some  Thoughts  concerning  Educa- 
tion," §  122). 

At  the  same  time,  the  educator  should  take  care  in  an- 
swering children's  questions  not  to  indulge  them  in  intel- 
lectual indolence  and  weak  dependence  on  others.  They 
should  be  stimulated  to  find  out  to  some  extent  for  them- 
selves the  reasons  of  things.     **  A  word  or  two,"  writes 


LIMITATION  OF  REASONING.  273 

Madame  Necker,  "  in  order  to  put  him  on  the  way,  often 
in  order  to  make  him  discover  that  by  thinking  well  about 
the  matter  he  might  have  been  able  to  assure  himself,  these 
words,  I  say,  will  be  seeds  which  will  fructify  with  time." 

In  some  cases,  no  doubt,  children's  questions  are  apt 
to  be  very  awkward,  and  even  unanswerable.  Thus  a  little 
girl  of  four  and  a  half  years  once  drove  her  mother  to  one 
of  the  most  difficult  problems  of  philosophy — thus:  She 
sees  a  wasp  on  the  window-pane,  and  wants  to  touch  it. 
Her  mother  says,  "No,  you  must  not ;  it  will  sting  you." 
Child  :  "  Why  doesn't  it  sting  the  glass  ? "  Mother:  "  Be- 
cause it  can't  feel."  Child:  "Why  doesn't  it  feel?" 
Mother:  "Because  it  has  no  nerves."  Child:  "Why  do 
nerves  feel  ? "  The  young  must  be  accustomed  to  the 
idea  that  there  are  many  things  that  they  can  not  yet  un- 
derstand, and  be  exercised  in  taking  some  truths  on  trust, 
and  not  insisting  on  knowing  the  "why"  of  everything. 
George  Eliot  says  somewhere,  "  Reason  about  everything 
with  your  child,  you  make  him  a  monster,  without  rever- 
ence, without  affections."  ^*^ 

But  the  training  of  the  reasoning  powers  includes  more 
than  the  answering  of  the  spontaneous  questionings  of 
children.  The  learners  must  be  questioned  in  their  turn 
as  to  the  reasons  of  things,  and  the  causes  of  what  they  see 
happening  about  them.  A  question  sets  a  child  thinking, 
raises  a  new  problem  in  his  mind,  and  so  stimulates  his 
powers  of  thought.  Not  only  so,  the  asking  the  why  and 
wherefore  of  things  helps  to  familiarize  the  child's  mind 
with  the  truth  that  everything  has  its  cause  and  its  explana- 
tion. The  parent  or  teacher  should  aim  at  fixing  a  habit 
of  inquiry  in  the  young  mind  by  repeatedly  directing  his 
attention  to  occurrences,  and  encouraging  him  to  find  out 
how  they  take  place.  Here,  of  course,  great  discernment 
must  be  shown  in  selecting  problems  which  the  child's 
previous  knowledge  will  enable  him  to  grapple  with.  This 
exercise  of  the  child's  mind,  in  discovering  the  reasons  of 


274  JUDGING  AND  REASONING, 

things,  involves  a  method,  training  in  orderly  recollection  ; 
in  going  back  to  his  past  experiences  to  search  for  fruitful 
analogies,  and  to  his  acquired  principles  for  the  true  ex- 
planation. 

The  systematic  training  of  the  reasoning  powers  must 
aim  at  avoiding  the  errors  incident  to  the  processes  of  in- 
duction and  deduction.  Thus  children  need  to  be  warned 
against  hasty  induction,  against  taking  a  mere  accidental 
accompaniment  for  a  condition  or  cause,  and  overlooking 
the  fact  that  one  result  may  have  a  plurality  of  causes. 
This  systematic  guidance  of  the  child's  inductive  processes 
will  be  much  better  carried  on  by  one  who  has  studied  the 
rules  of  inductive  logic.  In  like  manner  the  teacher 
should  seek  to  direct  the  young  reasoner  in  drawing  conclu- 
sions from  principles,  by  pointing  out  to  him  the  limits  of 
a  rule,  by  helping  him  to  distinguish  between  the  cases 
that  do  and  those  that  do  not  fall  under  it,  and  by  famil- 
iarizing him  with  the  dangers  that  lurk  in  ambiguous  lan- 
guage. And  here  some  knowledge  of  the  rules  of  deduct- 
ive logic  will  be  found  helpful. 

Subjects  which  exercise  the  Reasoning  Fac- 
ulty.— The  training  of  the  reasoning  faculty  should 
be  commenced  by  the  mother  and  the  elementary  teacher 
in  connection  with  the  acquisition  of  common  every-day 
knowledge  about  things.  Its  completion,  however,  belongs 
to  the  later  stage  of  methodical  school  instruction.  There 
is  no  subject  of  study  which  may  not  in  the  hands  of  an 
intelligent  and  efficient  teacher  be  made  helpful  to  this  re- 
sult. Thus  the  study  of  physical  geography  should  be 
made  the  occasion  for  exercising  the  child  in  reasoning  as 
to  the  causes  of  natural  phenomena.  History,  again,  when 
well  taught,  may  be  made  to  bring  out  the  learner's  pow- 
ers of  tracing  analogies,  of  discovering  the  causes  and 
effects  of  human  action,  and  deducing  particular  results 
from  well-ascertained  principles. 

The  teaching  of  science  is,  however,  the  great  agency 


INDUCTIVE  AND  DEDUCTIVE   SCIENCE. 


275 


for  strengthening  and  developing  the  reasoning  powers. 
Science  is  general  knowledge  expressed  as  precisely  as 
possible,  and  the  study  of  it  serves  to  give  accuracy  to  all 
the  thinking  processes.  Science  is  further  an  orderly  ar- 
rangement of  knowledge  according  to  its  dependence.  It 
sets  out  with  principles  gained  by  induction,  and  then  pro- 
ceeds in  a  systematic  way  to  trace  out  deductively  the  conse- 
quences of  these  principles.  It  thus  serves  to  train  the 
reasoning  powers  in  an  orderly  and  methodical  way  of  pro- 
ceeding. 

Some  sciences  exhibit  more  of  the  inductive  process, 
others  more  of  the  deductive.  The  physical  sciences  are 
all,  to  some  extent,  inductive,  resorting  largely  to  observa- 
tion, experiment,  and  proof  of  law  by  fact.  And  some  of 
these,  as,  for  example,  chemistry  and  physiology,  are  mainly 
inductive.  In  these  the  inquirer  is  largely  concerned  with 
observing  and  analyzing  phenomena  and  arriving  at  their 
laws.  Hence  they  provide  the  best  training  of  the  mind 
in  the  patient  and  accurate  investigation  of  facts,  and  the 
cautious  building  up  of  general  truths  on  a  firm  basis  of 
actual  observation.  On  the  other  hand,  the  mathematical 
sciences  are  almost  entirely  deductive.  Here  the  princi- 
ples, being  simple  and  self-evident,  are  stated  at  the  outset 
in  the  shape  of  axioms,  etc.;  and  the  development  of  the 
science  proceeds  by  combining  these  principles  in  ever 
new  ways,  and  arriving  at  fresh  results  by  a  process  of  rig- 
orous deduction.  This  process  of  demonstration,  which 
shows  how  the  conclusions  necessarily  follow  from  the  prin- 
ciples, is  an  exercise  of  the  logical  faculty  of  very  peculiar 
value.  Hence  mathematics  has  commonly  been  held  up  as 
the  best  instrument  for  disciplining  the  mind  in  exactness 
and  consistency  of  thought. 

Method  in  Teaching". — All  sciences  as  they  progress 

tend  to  grow  deductive,  that  is   to  say,  deduction  plays  a 

larger  and  larger  part  in  them.     This  is  illustrated  in  the 

growing  application  of  mathematics  or  the  science  of  quan- 

19 


2/6  JUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

tity  to  the  physical  sciences,  chemistry,  etc.  Here  the 
laws  reached  by  induction  are  set  forth  at  the  outset  as 
the  first  principles  of  the  science,  from  which  the  explana- 
tion of  particular  phenomena  is  deduced.  In  these  cases, 
then,  we  see  the  proper  order  of  expounding  a  subject, 
when  the  knowledge  of  it  is  complete,  deviates  from  the 
natural  order  of  arriving  at  knowledge  by  the  individual 
mind  when  left  to  itself.  In  other  words,  the  "  method  of 
instruction  "  is  not  necessarily  the  same  as  the  "  method 
of  discovery."*  Since  the  teacher  represents  the  results 
of  all  past  investigations,  he  may  start  with  the  principles 
reached  last  of  all  in  the  actual  history  of  human  discovery, 
and  set  forth  the  consequence  of  these.  At  the  same  time, 
the  natural  order  of  discovery  ought  never  to  be  lost  sight 
of.  In  some  cases,  as  in  teaching  the  rules  of  grammar,  it 
may  be  desirable  to  proceed  according  to  an  "  inductive 
method,"  i.  e.,  leading  the  pupil  up  from  an  inspection  of 
words  in  actual  use  to  a  comprehension  of  the  laws  that 
govern  their  use.  And  in  no  cases  ought  principles  to  be 
taught  before  some  examples  are  given.  It  is  now  admitted 
that  the  elementary  principles  of  number,  or  the  simple 
propositions  of  arithmetic,  are  best  taught  by  means  of  an 
inductive  operation  carried  out  on  concrete  examples  of 
number.  Not  only  so,  even  such  "  self-evident  "  truths  as 
the  axioms  of  geometry  require,  as  mathematical  teachers 
are  well  aware,  a  certain  amount  of  concrete  illustration. 
So  obvious  a  principle  as  that  if  equals  be  added  to  equals 
the  wholes  are  equal  should  be  illustrated  and  firmly 
grasped  by  aid  of  concrete  examples.  The  words  of 
Seneca  in  reference  to  practical  training  apply  to  theoretic 
instruction  also : 

"  Longum  iter  est  per  prsecepta  : 
Breve  et  efificax  per  exempla." 

Thus,  in  every  case,  the  right  method  of  teaching  a  sub- 
*  See  Jevons's  '*  Elementary  Lessons  in  Logic,"  lesson  xxiv. 


METHOD  IN   TEACHING.  277 

ject  proceeds  to  some  extent  according  to  the  order  of 
discovery. 

The  full  consideration  of  the  subject  of  method  does 
not  belong  here.  The  broad  distinction  between  induc- 
tion and  deduction  only  enables  us  to  deal  with  it  in  part. 
Another  important  logical  distinction  bearing  on  the  prob- 
lem is  that  of  analysis  and  synthesis.  In  the  first  we  set 
out  with  the  complex  and  resolve  it  into  its  simpler  parts ; 
in  the  second  we  reverse  the  problem,  and,  starting  with 
the  simple,  build  up  the  complex.  The  distinction  is  to 
some  extent  parallel  to  that  between  induction  and  deduc- 
tion. In  observing  facts  and  arriving  at  the  common  prin- 
ciples that  underlie  them,  we  resort  to  analysis.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  reasoning  deductively,  as  in  Euclid,  we  pro- 
ceed synthetically  by  combining  elementary  facts  and  prin- 
ciples. There  is  often  a  choice  between  proceeding  ana- 
lytically or  synthetically,  e.  g.,  in  teaching  a  new  language. 

Closely  connected  with  the  subject  of  method,  or  the 
best  way  of  teaching  a  single  subject,  is  that  of  the  best 
order  of  dealing  with  the  different  subjects  of  teaching. 
This  is  broadly  determined  by  psychological  principles, 
the  laws  of  the  growth  of  faculty.  Psychology  tells  us 
that  subjects  appealing  mainly  to  memory  and  imagination 
(e.  g.,  geography  and  history)  should  precede  subjects 
exercising  the  reasoning  powers  (mathematics,  physical 
science).  This  fixes  what  ha^  been  called  the  psycho- 
logical order.  But  within  these  broad  limits  the  special 
arrangement  to  be  followed  has  to  be  determined  by  logi- 
cal considerations.  That  is  to  say,  we  have  to  consider 
the  relative  simplicity  of  the  subjects,  and  the  depend- 
ence of  one  subject  on  another.  This  gives  us  the  logical 
order.  By  such  considerations  we  arrive,  for  example,  at 
the  rule,  that  some  knowledge  of  mathematics  must  pre- 
cede the  study  of  physics  ;  that  some  knowledge  of  me- 
chanics, chemistry,  etc.,  must  precede  the  study  of  physi- 
ology (see  Appendix  C). 


278  fUDGING  AND  REASONING. 

APPENDIX. 

The  first  manifestations  of  the  reasoning  faculty  are  illustrated  by 
Perez,  ot>.  cit.,  chap,  x,  and  Egger,  op.  cit.,  part  iv. 

On  the  training  of  the  faculty  of  judging  and  reasoning,  the  student 
should  read  Locke's  little  work,  "  Conduct  of  the  Understanding  "  (ed. 
by  Prof  T.  Fowler)  ;  Miss  Edgeworth,  "  Practical  Education,"  chap, 
xxiii.  He  should  further  master  the  elements  of  deductive  and  in- 
ductive logic  as  expounded  in  such  a  work  as  Prof.  Jevons's  "  Ele- 
mentary Lessons." 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE    FEELINGS  :     NATURE    OF    FEELING. 

Having  now  briefly  reviewed  the  growth  of  intellect, 
we  may  pass  on  to  trace  the  second  great  phase  of  mental 
development,  the  growth  of  the  feelings. 

Feeling  defined. — The  term  "  feeling  "  marks  off  those 
mental  states  which  are  pleasurable  or  painful.  These 
may  be  immediately  connected  with  bodily  conditions,  as 
the  sensations  of  hunger,  or  may  accompany  some  form 
of  mental  activity,  as  the  emotions  of  hope  or  remorse. 
While  all  feeling  has  the  characteristic  of  being  pleasur- 
able or  painful,  agreeable  or  disagreeable,  in  some  de- 
gree, there  are  many  feelings  which  are  of  a  mixed  char- 
acter, such  as  the  bodily  feeling  of  tickling  and  the  mental 
feeling  of  grief  at  the  loss  of  a  friend.  Feelings  exhibit 
all  degrees  of  intensity,  from  the  quiet  current  of  satisfac- 
tion which  attends  the  consciousness  of  doing  right,  up  to 
the  violent  excitement  of  a  transporting  joy. 

The  feelings  constitute  a  distinct,  well-marked  phase 
or  division  of  mind.  Our  pleasures  and  pains  make  up 
the  interesting  side  of  our  experience.  The  objects  of  the 
external  world  only  have  a  value  for  us  in  so  far  as  they 
affect  our  sensibilities  or  touch  our  feelings.  Since  the 
feelings  are  the  elements  of  happiness  and  its  opposite, 
the  study  of  them  is  an  important  part  of  the  science  of 
well-being. 

But  feeling  is  not  merely  a  subject  of  great  importance 


28o  THE  FEELINGS:   NATURE  OF  FEELING. 

in  itself :  it  stands  in  certain  relations  to  the  other  two 
sides  of  mind.  On  the  one  side,  it  is  connected  with  the 
exercise  and  development  of  the  intellect.  Although 
feeling,  in  its  more  violent  forms,  opposes  itself  to  intel- 
lectual activity,  in  its  more  moderate  degrees  it  supplies 
the  interest  which  quickens  and  rouses  the  faculties.  The 
culture  of  intelligence  is  accordingly  limited  by  the  devel- 
opment of  the  feelings.  Conversely,  the  cultivation  of  the 
intellect  promotes  the  growth  of  all  the  higher  and  more 
refined  feelings,  as  the  sense  of  beauty,  truth,  etc.  In  this 
way  the  development  of  knowing  and  feeling  are  closely 
connected  and  intertwined. 

On  the  other  side,  feeling  stands  in  intimate  connec- 
tion with  action  and  will.  It  supplies  the  stimulus  or 
motive  force  which  excites  the  will  to  action.  The  incen- 
tives or  motives  which  urge  us  to  do  things  are  the  im- 
mediate products  of  the  several  emotional  sensibilities. 
The  habitual  directions  of  conduct  follow  the  lead  of  the 
dominant  feelings. 

The  Diffusion  and  Effects  of  Feeling. — Every 
feeling  is  a  mode  of  mental  excitement,  and  as  such  has 
a  certain  tendency  to  persist  and  to  master  the  mind. 
All  our  stronger  feelings,  when  fully  excited,  have  a 
gradual  rise  and  subsidence,  the  stages  of  which  we  can 
easily  trace.  A  child  carried  away  by  hilarious  excite- 
ment or  angry  passion  shows  this  course  of  gradual  rise 
and  fall,  expansion  and  contraction.  When  the  current 
of  feeling  is  thus  allowed  to  rise  and  swell,  as  in  all  forms 
of  passionate  excitement,  well-marked  effects,  both  mental 
and  bodily,  are  observable.  Strong  and  violent  feeling 
agitates  the  mind,  weakens  and  often  paralyzes  the  power 
of  voluntary  or  selective  attention,  and  disturbs  the  nor- 
mal flow  of  the  thoughts.  Thus  a  child  in  a  passion  of 
grief  or  anger  is  overwhelmed  with  the  agitation,  and 
unable  to  reflect  and  to  judge.  The  force  of  the  emo- 
tional  excitement   keeps   whatever   ideas   are   congruous 


FEELING    WARPS   THE  INTELLECT.        28 1 

with  the  feeling  and  fitted  to  sustain  it  vividly  before  the 
mind,  and  excludes  others.  Thus  the  mind  of  the  angry 
child  is  dominated  by  the  idea  of  some  real  or  fancied 
injury,  and  can  not  view  impartially  all  the  facts  of  the 
case.  And  even  less  agitating  forms  of  feeling  show  the 
same  effect  on  the  mind  in  a  less  striking  degree,  by  caus- 
ing it  to  dwell  too  much  on  certain  aspects  of  a  subject, 
and  so  to  form  a  one-sided  and  biased  view  of  the 
matter. 

The  clear  understanding  of  this  effect  of  feeling  in 
warping  the  intellectual  mechanism  is  of  the  greatest  con- 
sequence to  the  teacher.  Illustrations  of  it  have  already 
been  given  in  connection  with  the  training  of  the  imagina- 
tion and  of  the  judgment.  The  teacher  who  aims  at  free- 
ing the  child's  mind  from  prejudice,  and  rendering  its 
intellectual  processes  orderly  and  steady,  must  be  on  the 
watch  for  this  disturbing  action  of  the  insidious  forces  of 
emotion.  Even  good  feelings,  as  pity  for  one  in  adversity, 
if  allowed  to  gain  the  ascendancy  in  the  mind,  are  apt  to 
obscure  the  intellectual  vision.  The  well-known  effect  of 
strong  commiseration  for  an  individual  in  rendering  per- 
sons unjust  in  their  judgments  is  explained  by  this  circum- 
stance. The  excessive  indulgence  in  compassion  unduly 
narrows  the  field  of  mental  vision,  shutting  out  from  view 
much  that  is  relevant  and  necessary  to  a  fair  estimate  of 
the  action  as  a  whole. 

Along  with  these  mental  disturbances,  there  are  im- 
portant physical  or  bodily  effects  of  feeling.  The  close 
connection  between  mind  and  body  is  nowhere  more 
plainly  illustrated  than  in  the  immediate  physical  effects 
of  states  of  feeling.  All  emotional  excitement  radiates, 
so  to  speak,  over  the  organism,  bringing  about  great 
changes  in  the  vital  processes  (action  of  the  heart,  respira- 
tion, etc.),  and  throwing  the  muscles  into  violent  activity. 
A  severe  shock,  whether  of  grief  or  of  joy,  has  been  known 
to  produce  serious  physical  results  ;  from  all  which  it  is 


282    THE  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING. 

evident  that  the  due  control  and  repression  of  violent  feel- 
ing of  all  kinds  is  a  matter  of  great  educational  impor- 
tance, as  well  in  the  interests  of  the  child's  physical  well- 
being  as  in  those  of  his  moral  well-being. 

In  addition  to  these  physical  accompaniments  of  vio- 
lent feeling  or  passion,  there  are  the  characteristic  bodily 
accompaniments  of  our  ordinary  feelings,  including  those 
external  manifestations  which  are  commonly  called  expres- 
sion, facial  movements,  gestures,  modifications  of  vocal 
utterance,  changes  in  circulation  leading  to  pallor,  and  so 
on.  Pleasure  and  pain  have  their  distinct  manifestations, 
as  the  look  of  joy,  the  elated  attitude  of  body,  and  the 
look  of  sadness  and  depression.  And  the  same  applies  to 
some  extent  to  the  several  kinds  of  pleasurable  or  painful 
feeling,  as  anger,  fear,  and  love.  So  close  is  this  connec- 
tion between  the  feeling  and  its  bodily  manifestation  that 
the  adoption  of  the  external  signs  of  an  emotion  (look, 
gesture,  etc.)  may  often  suffice  to  induce  a  certain  strength 
of  the  corresponding  feeling.  This  is  illustrated  in  the 
workings  of  sympathy,  which  appears  to  begin  with  the 
imitation  of  the  external  signs  of  feeling,  e.  g.,  the  facial 
signs  and  vocal  effects  of  grief. 

The  understanding  of  the  bodily  manifestations  of  feel- 
ing is  of  great  educational  importance.  Children  may  to 
some  extent  be  encouraged  to  adopt  a  feeling  by  assuming 
its  external  expression.  On  the  other  hand,  a  feeling  may 
often  be  repressed,  partially  or  entirely,  by  controlling  its 
bodily  manifestations. 

Further,  the  ability  to  read  and  interpret  the  effects 
and  expression  of  feeling  is  of  great  importance  for  the 
accurate  observation  of  the  emotions  of  children.  The 
feelings  of  the  young,  who,  as  a  rule,  not  having  yet  learned 
the  art  of  self-control  and  disguise,  are  very  frank  in  ex- 
pressing their  emotional  states,  can  be  very  fairly  estimated 
by  means  of  their  external  manifestations.  By  such  ob- 
servation we  may  readily  compare  one  child  with  another 


CONTRASTED  MODES  OF  FEELING.        283 

in  respect  of  the  intensity  of  a  particular  feeling,  say  pity, 
or  remorse,  or  may  inquire  into  more  general  differences, 
as  liveliness  and  quickness  of  emotion  as  a  whole.  By 
such  means  we  may  gain  a  clearer  insight  into  the  pecul- 
iarities of  a  child's  emotional  temperament,  and  so  be  in  a 
much  better  position  to  deal  with  it  for  intellectual  and 
moral  purposes. 

Pleasure  and  Pain. — The  two  strongly  contrasted 
modes  of  feeling,  pleasure  and  pain,  have  their  conditions 
or  causes,  the  knowledge  of  which  is  of  great  importance, 
both  by  way  of  securing  the  happiness  of  the  young,  and 
of  working  on  their  active  impulses. 

Pleasure  is  the  accompaniment  of  the  moderate  and 
suitable  activity  of  some  organ  or  faculty  of  the  mind. 
Moderate  stimulation  of  the  palate,  of  the  higher  senses,  of 
the  muscular  energies,  and  of  the  mental  faculties,  is  at- 
tended by  a  sense  of  enjoyment. 

When,  however,  the  stimulation  passes  a  certain  limit, 
the  pleasurable  effect  diminishes  and  rapidly  passes  into 
a  distinctly  painful  effect.  Thus,  when  the  light  of  the 
rising  sun  exceeds  a  certain  intensity,  the  eye  is  fatigued 
or  "  blinded " ;  similarly,  violent  muscular  exercise  or  a 
severe  strain  of  the  mental  powers  is  disagreeable  and  fa- 
tiguing. 

Again,  pain  may  be  occasioned  by  the  want  of  an  ap- 
propriate stimulus.  Examples  of  this  are  to  be  found  in 
the  restlessness  and  uneasiness  of  an  active  boy  who  can 
not  indulge  in  muscular  activity,  and  in  the  mental  condi- 
tion known  as  tedium,  ennui,  dullness,  which  is  induced  by 
the  absence  of  wholesome  mental  occupation.  In  a  some- 
what similar  way  pain  is  occasioned  by  all  obstructions  to 
activity.  A  feeling  of  inability  to  lift  a  weight  or  find  a 
reason  for  a  thing  is  disagreeable. 

It  appears  to  follow  that  pleasurable  activity  lies  be- 
tween two  extremes,  excessive  or  strained  exercise  on  the 
one  hand,  and  defective  or  impeded  exercise  on  the  other. 


284    ^^^  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING. 

The  terms  moderate,  excessive,  and  defective  are  here 
relative  to  the  natural  strength  and  the  acquired  habits  of 
the  organ  or  faculty.  A  boy  with  well-developed  muscles 
needs  more  exercise  than  another.  So  a  strong  and  active 
brain  requires  more  to  think  about. 

Effects  of  Pleasure  and  Pain.— The  suitable  and 
moderate  activity  of  an  organ  is  beneficial  to  that  organ 
and  furthers  its  permanent  efficiency.  On  the  other  hand, 
unsuitable  and  excessive  activity  injures  the  organ  and 
impairs  its  future  efficiency.  We  may  say,  then,  that 
pleasure  furthers,  whereas  pain  obstructs,  a  healthy,  effi- 
cient state  of  the  organ  concerned.  Not  only  so,  since  the 
several  organs  of  the  body  stand  in  the  closest  relation 
one  to  another,  the  state  of  any  one  necessarily  affects 
that  of  the  others.  As  pointed  out  in  an  earlier  chapter, 
the  over-stimulation  of  the  brain  tends  to  impair  the  func- 
tions of  the  bodily  organs.  On  the  other  hand,  a  flow  of 
happy  mental  activity  conduces  to  the  perfect  discharge 
of  these  functions.  In  this  way  all  pleasurable  states, 
when  not  carried  to  the  point  of  boisterous  and  exhaust- 
ing excitement,  have  an  exhilarating  effect  on  the  whole 
organism,  expediting  the  processes  of  digestion,  respira- 
tion, and  so  forth.  And  conversely,  painful  states  have  a 
depressing  and  lowering  effect  on  the  organism  as  a  whole. 
Intense  grief  or  terror  involves  a  hurtful  drain  on  the 
nervous  energies,  impeding  the  action  of  the  heart,  etc., 
and  diminishing  muscular  power. 

The  educational  bearings  of  these  principles  are  appar- 
ent. The  ends  of  intellectual  training  dictate  the  same 
rule  as  those  of  humanitarianism  :  Make  school-work  as 
pleasant  as  possible.  The  best  kind  of  intellectual  activity 
is  that  attended  by  a  flow  of  pleasurable  emotion.  Such 
pleasure  is  at  once  a  sign  that  the  activity  is  normal  and 
right,  and  a  guarantee  of  prolonged  and  fruitful  activity. 
One  of  the  greatest  gains  of  modern  educational  reform  is 
the  clear  enunciation  of  the  principle  that  learning,  in  the 


STUDY  SHOULD  BE  PLEASURABLE.       285 

true  and  complete  sense,  is  only  possible  when  the  sense 
of  irksomeness  and  drudgery  gives  place  to  a  pleasant 
consciousness  of  free  and  natural  movement. 

This  rule  does  not  mean  that  the  teacher  should  be 
always  aiming  at  the  more  intense  forms  of  delight. 
Such  an  end  is  unattainable,  and  is  moreover  undesirable. 
Moderate  and  quiet  enjoyment  is  that  which  best  com- 
ports with  the  calm  mental  attitude  of  thinking.  Nor 
does  the  rule  exclude  all  that  is  disagreeable.  The 
learner  must  encounter  difficulties,  and  it  is  well  that  he 
should.  The  occasional  sense  of  a  teasing  difficulty,  of 
foolish  negligence,  and  so  forth,  is  needed  to  screw  up 
the  faculties  to  their  highest  degree  of  tension.  But  such 
occasional  rebuffs  need  not  interfere  with  the  general 
pleasurableness  of  study.  So  far  from  this,  the  very 
temporary  annoyance  may,  by  becoming  the  starting- 
point  for  a  fuller  exertion  of  the  mental  powers,  subserve 
a  deeper  enjoyment  in  the  end.^^ 

Monotony  and  Change. — Our  feelings  of  pleasure 
and  pain  are  governed  by  the  law  of  change  or  contrast 
of  mental  state  already  referred  to.  A  cause  of  pleasure, 
if  it  remains  unchanged,  tends  to  lose  its  effect.  Pro- 
longed bodily  activity  loses  the  first  delightful  sense  of 
freshness.  On  the  other  hand,  change  of  activity  is  a 
known  cause  of  enjoyment.  Variatio  delectat.  The  tran- 
sition from  the  school-room  to  the  play-ground,  from  the 
holidays  to  the  work  of  the  school,  from  town  to  country, 
and  so  on,  is  exhilarating.  The  delights  of  novelty  are 
only  a  more  striking  illustration  of  the  same  principle. 

A  like  result  shows  itself  in  the  case  of  prolonged 
causes  of  pain.  A  patient  suffers  less  from  prolonged 
bodily  pain  (supposing  the  cause  not  to  increase),  and  we 
all  suffer  less  from  enduring  worries  and  troubles  when 
we  "  get  used  "  to  them  What  is  known  as  the  deaden- 
ing of  the  more  delicate  modes  of  sensibility  illustrates 
the   same   principle.     Thus  a  child's  sense  of  shame  is 


286    THE  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING, 

dulled  by  a  too  frequent  wounding  of  the  feeling  by- 
humiliating  words,  ridicule,  etc.  The  horror  at  the  sight 
of  pain,  death,  etc.,  is  blunted  by  familiarity.  As  Hamlet 
says,  apropos  of  the  grave-digger  who  sings  over  his  work  : 
"The  hand  of  little  employment  hath  the  daintier  sense." 

Accommodation  to  Surroundings. — The  effect  of 
prolonging  the  causes  of  pleasure  and  pain  in  diminishing 
the  intensity  of  the  feeling  evidently  implies  a  change  in 
the  condition  of  the  organ  concerned.  There  is  a  process 
of  adjustment  or  accommodation  of  the  organism  to  its 
surroundings. 

A  striking  example  of  this  power  of  self-adjustment  is 
seen  in  the  fact  that  a  stimulus  which  at  first  is  distinctly 
disagreeable  may  in  time  become  not  only  indifferent  but 
positively  pleasurable.  This  is  illustrated  in  the  acquired 
likings  of  the  palate,  the  fondness  for  alcoholic  drinks, 
bitter  condiments,  and  so  on.  Another  illustration  is  seen 
in  the  effects  of  exercising  an  organ  or  faculty.  The 
growth  that  results  from  a  regular  periodic  exercise  of 
muscle  or  brain  implies  an  accommodation  of  the  organ 
to  a  greater  strength  of  stimulus,  so  that  an  amount  of  ex- 
ercise which  was  at  first  excessive  and  painful  becomes 
enjoyable. 

One  other  effect  of  the  prolongation  or  frequent  re- 
newal of  stimulation  remains  to  be  touched  on.  What  is 
customary,  though  it  loses  the  first  fresh  charm,  becomes 
endeared  by  habit,  so  that  when  deprived  of  it  we  suffer. 
It  is  owing  to  this  principle  that  a  child  is  fixed  in  certain 
definite  lines  of  bodily  and  mental  activity.  He  finds  a 
quiet  satisfaction  in  going  through  the  round  of  tasks,  etc., 
he  is  accustomed  to,  and  resents  any  interruption  of  the 
customary  order. 

The  craving  for  change  and  the  clinging  to  what  is 
customary  are  the  two  great  opposed  principles  of  our 
emotional  experience.  A  certain  amount  of  variety  and 
novelty  is  necessary  to  prolonged  enjoyment.     Yet  if  the 


NEED  OF  NOVELTY  AND    VARIETY.      287 

change  from  the  old  to  the  new  is  great  and  abrupt  there 
arises  the  painful  sense  of  loss.  In  early  life  the  law  of 
change  is  the  dominant  one.  Children  delight  in  new  im- 
pressions, and  crave  for  the  excitement  of  change.  As  a 
rule,  too,  they  soon  forget  old  friends  and  surroundings, 
and  know  little  of  longings  for  what  is  past.  This  means 
that  they  are  in  the  plastic  state  of  youth,  in  which  the 
mind  easily  adapts  itself  to  the  t).q\n^  and  is  but  little 
bound  by  the  ties  of  habit.  But  the  love  of  change  in  its 
more  intense  form  is  a  mark  of  a  particular  temperament, 
and  children  exhibit  considerable  differences  in  this  re- 
spect. Timid,  clinging  natures  much  more  readily  attach 
themselves  to  their  customary  surroundings,  and  feel  a 
new  environment  to  be  strange  and  discordant.  As  a  rule, 
boys  with  their  active  adventurous  nature  are  more  under 
the  dominion  of  novelty  than  girls. 

The  principles  of  change  and  habituation  in  relation  to 
the  feelings  have  important  educational  applications.  A 
recent  writer  has  said  that  "  monotony  is  the  greatest 
enemy  a  teacher  has  to  deal  with."*  However  this  be,  it 
is  certain  that  the  most  effective  way  to  divest  learning  of 
all  irksomeness  is  to  introduce  as  much  novelty  and  variety 
as  possible,  both  in  the  materials  presented  and  in  the 
manner  of  presenting  them.  At  the  same  time,  the  teacher 
can  not  be  always  opening  up  new  and  agreeable  vistas. 
He  must  resort  to  repetition  for  the  sake  of  thoroughness 
of  apprehension  and  firmness  of  retention.  He  may  even 
be  justified  in  certain  cases  in  persevering  with  what  is 
distasteful  to  a  child  if  there  is  reasonable  ground  to  hope 
that  the  learner  will,  by  a  process  of  accommodation  and 
growth,  find  the  subject  congenial  by-and-by.  It  is  only 
in  the  earlier  stages  of  instruction  that  the  pleasure  of 
novelty  can  be  frequently  indulged  in.  The  aim  of  the 
teacher  is  to  develop  fixed  or  permanent  interests,  that  is 
to  say,  to  direct  the  emotional  energies  into  habitual  chan- 

*  "Theory  and  Practice  of  Teaching,"  by  the  Rev.  E.  Thring,  p.  189. 


288    THE  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING. 

nels.  And  this,  as  we  have  seen,  involves  a  certain  loss  of 
freshness,  though  this  is  amply  compensated  by  the  de- 
velopment of  a  strong  attachment  to  what  has  grown  cus- 
tomary, and  become  in  a  sense  a  necessary  part  of  our 
existence. 

Varieties  of  Pleasure  and  Pain.— The  feelings  of 
pleasure  and  pain  fall  into  two  main  groups  :  (i)  those 
arising  from  nervous  stimulation,  and  (2)  those  depending 
on  some  form  of  mental  activity.  The  first,  commonly 
known  as  '*  sensations,"  may  be  called  sense-feelings  ;  the 
second  are  best  distinguished  as  emotions. 

(A)  Sense-Feelings.— These,  again,  fall  into  two 
distinct  groups  :  (a)  those  connected  with  the  state  of  the 
vital  organs,  or  the  organic  sense-feelings  ;  and  {p)  those 
arising  from  the  exercise  of  the  organs  of  special  sense  and 
the  muscles. 

The  first  group,  being  connected  with  the  discharge 
of  the  lower  vegetal  functions,  are  the  first  to  manifest 
themselves  in  the  development  of  the  child.  The  infant 
is  subject  to  a  number  of  disturbances  of  the  functions  of 
digestion,  circulation,  etc.,  and  these  disturbances  may 
give  rise  to  a  considerable  amount  of  suffering.  Attention 
to  these  signs  of  impeded  function  forms  an  important 
part  of  early  physical  education.  Owing,  too,  to  the  close 
connection  of  body  and  mind,  these  states  of  physical 
comfort  and  discomfort  profoundly  affect  the  temper  and 
mental  tone  of  the  child.  A  child  suffering  from  indiges- 
tion, cold,  and  so  forth,  is  predisposed  to  be  cross  and  ill- 
manageable.  Indeed,  such  organic  evils  when  neglected 
may,  by  inducing  a  chronic  irritability,  foster  the  germs  of 
bad  emotional  traits,  such  as  fretfulness  and  quarrelsome- 
ness. 

The  pleasures  and  pains  connected  with  the  activity  of 
the  sense-organs  are  of  a  higher  order,  and  show  them- 
selves later  in  the  history  of  the  child.  The  delight  of 
color  and  of  sweet  sound  marks  the  growth  of  the  higher 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  EMOTION.  289 

animal  and  distinctly  human  functions.  We  only  see  a 
crude  trace  of  it  in  the  first  months  of  life  ;  its  fuller 
development  presupposes  a  measure  of  intellectual  activity, 
viz.,  discrimination,  and  belongs  to  a  much  later  period. 
Finally,  the  feelings  connected  with  the  activity  of  the 
muscles  presuppose  a  certain  development  of  the  organs 
and  a  certain  command  of  them  by  the  will.  The  infant 
obtains  only  a  limited  enjoyment  from  the  use  of  his 
motor  organs.  It  is  later  on,  when  he  grows  stronger,  can 
run  about  and  perform  a  variety  of  actions,  that  he 
realizes  the  fuller  deHghts  of  muscular  activity.*  ^^ 

(B)  The  Emotions. — The  higher  feelings  or  emo- 
tions, again,  fall  into  certain  well-marked  varieties  of 
pleasurable  and  painful  susceptibility,  such  as  the  satis- 
factions and  correlative  dissatisfactions  of  self-esteem, 
affection,  the  moral  sense.  These,  like  the  sense-feelings, 
may  be  best  considered  in  the  order  in  which  they  mani- 
fest themselves.  But  before  taking  them  up  in  detail  we 
will  consider  the  general  laws  according  to  which  the 
emotions  develop.f 

Development  of  Emotion. — The  same  general  laws 
of  mental  development  which  we  have  found  to  hold  good 
in  the  case  of  the  intellectual  faculties  apply  also  to  the 
emotions.  These  are  deepened  and  fixed  by  exercise,  or, 
as  we  commonly  express  it,  indulgence  ;  and  there  is  a 
progress  from  feelings  simple  in  their  composition,  involv- 
ing little  mental  representation,  to  feelings  complex  in 
their  nature,  and  implying  a  high  degree  of  representative 
activity. 

*  When  speaking  of  the  organic  feelings,  we  have  to  dwell  on  the 
painful  or  disagreeable  side  as  being  the  more  conspicuous.  In  the 
feelings  connected  with  the  use  of  the  senses,  especially  hearing  and 
sight,  the  pleasurable  side  is  the  more  prominent. 

\  In  most  cases  it  is  the  pleasurable  side  of  the  feeling  or  suscepti- 
bility which  is  specially  indicated  by  the  name,  as  when  we  speak  of 
the  love  of  approbation  or  of  self-complacency.  In  the  case  of  fear, 
however,  we  clearly  have  to  do  with  a  painful  feeling. 


290 


THE  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING. 


(i)  Instinctive  and  Hereditary  Element, — Our  emotions 
spring  out  of  certain  instinctive  germs.  The  child  is  so 
constituted  as  to  be  affected  with  the  particular  feeling 
called  anger  or  fear  when  the  appropriate  circumstances, 
sense  of  being  thwarted,  consciousness  of  danger,  present 
themselves.  And  this  instinctive  rudiment  of  emotion  is 
not  the  same  in  all  cases.  We  find  that  similar  circum- 
stances and  experiences  do  not  result  in  the  same  intensity 
of  emotion  in  different  children  ;  and  this  shows  that  they 
are  born  with  dissimilar  emotional  tendencies  or  disposi- 
tions. The  sum  of  these  native  or  instinctive  dispositions 
constitutes  the  child's  emotional  nature  or  temperament. 
Such  differences  in  emotional  capacity  are  connected  with 
physical  differences,  including  diversities  not  only  in  the 
structure  and  mode  of  working  of  the  brain  and  nervous 
system,  but  in  the  constitution  of  the  muscular  system  and 
of  the  vital  organs  engaged  in  the  outgoings  of  feeling. 

The  instinctive  foundations  of  feeling  include,  besides 
these  capacities  to  feel  in  different  ways,  certain  transmitted 
associations.  For  example,  the  infant  smiles,  when  only  a 
few  weeks  old,  at  the  sight  of  his  mother's  face.  This  im- 
plies that  there  is  an  inherited  tendency  to  feel  pleasure 
of  a  particular  kind  in  connection  with  this  particular  im- 
pression, viz.,  the  sight,  of  the  human  face.  Again,  there 
is  good  reason  to  suppose  that  the  child  has  an  instinctive 
fear  of  strange  men,  and  of  certain  animals.  Such  trans- 
mitted associations  appear  to  point  to  the  effects  of  ances- 
tral experience.  Numberless  experiences  of  the  pleasures 
of  human  companionship,  and  of  the  dangers  connected 
with  strangers  and  wild  animals  during  the  past  history  of 
the  race,  have  left  their  organic  trace  in  the  shape  of  an 
inherited  association. 

(2)  The  Effect  of  Exercise^  Experience^  etc. — In  the  sec- 
ond place,  every  emotion  in  its  developed  form  presup- 
poses certain  experiences  and  a  process  of  acquisition 
within  the  individual  life.     The  feelings,  like  the  intellect- 


FEELINGS  DEEPENED  BY  EXERCISE.      291 

ual  operations,  become  strengthened  and  perfected  by  ex- 
ercise of  the  natural  capabiHties. 

Every  experience  of  pleasure  or  pain  leaves  its  after- 
trace  on  the  mind.  Just  as  every  exercise  of  the  powers 
of  attention  leaves  the  mind  and  the  connected  brain- 
centers  modified  and  more  strongly  disposed  to  that  par- 
ticular kind  of  activity,  so  every  indulgence  of  a  feeling 
tends  to  strengthen  the  corresponding  disposition.  The 
child  that  has  fully  indulged  a  feeling  of  anger  or  of  vanity 
is  much  more  ready  to  fall  into  that  mode  of  feeling  again. 

It  follows  from  this  effect  of  exercise  that  every  feeling 
tends  (within  certain  limits)  to  become  deeper  by  repeated 
indulgences.  Traces  of  previous  feelings  of  a  like  kind 
mingle  with  the  new  feeling ;  or  the  new  feeling  wakens 
echoes  of  previous  like  feelings.  In  this  way,  for  example, 
a  child's  feeling  of  gratitude  toward  one  who  is  in  the 
habit  of  being  kind  to  him  is  gradually  deepened  by  an 
accumulation  of  emotional  traces. 

As  a  final  result  of  this  persistence  of  emotional  traces 
we  have  what  is  called  revived  or  "  ideal  "  feeling.  After 
having  had  actual  experience  of  fear  or  anger,  a  child  is 
able,  when  his  representative  power  is  sufficiently  devel- 
oped, to  recall  and  imagine  the  feeling.  Thus  he  can  re- 
call a  fit  of  anger,  and  can  imagine  himself  feeling  angry 
again  by  supposing  himself  in  new  circumstances,  and  can 
enter  into  another's  feeling  of  anger  when  he  sees  it  ex- 
pressed. This  ability  to  reproduce  and  realize  a  state  of 
feeling,  when  no  longer  actually  present,  constitutes  a  most 
important  attainment  in  emotional  and  moral  development. 

Association  of  Feeling.— This  revival  or  represen- 
tation of  feeling  takes  place  according  to  the  law  of  con- 
tiguity. A  feeling  of  pleasure  or  of  pain  is  recalled  to  the 
mind  by  the  recurrence  of  the  impression  or  object  of 
which  the  feeling  was  an  accompaniment.  Thus,  to  take 
a  simple  case,  the  sight  of  a  cool  stream  on  a  hot  day  calls 
\i\)  the  pleasurable  experience  of  a  plunge.     The  presence 


292    THE  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING. 

of  a  person  who  has  done  us  a  kindness  gives  us  pleasure 
by  calling  up  in  our  mind  the  agreeable  recollection  of  this 
kindness.*  These  associations  embrace  not  only  the  ob- 
jects and  circumstances  which  cause  the  feeling,  but  col- 
lateral accompaniments.  Thus  a  child  may  take  a  violent 
repugnance  to  a  room  or  a  house  where  it  has  had  a  dis- 
agreeable experience.  A  liking  for  a  person  may  take  its 
rise  in  some  quite  accidental  association  with  a  very  agree- 
able experience. 

The  growth  of  emotion  depends  on  the  readiness  with 
which  such  associations  are  formed,  and  the  strength  of 
these  associations.  Children  of  a  lively  emotional  tem- 
perament are  quick  in  investing  places,  objects,  and  per- 
sons with  agreeable  and  disagreeable  associations,  and,  as 
a  consequence,  easily  acquire  strong  likings  and  dislikes.^ 

Many  emotions  in  their  fully-developed  form  are  com- 
posite feelings,  made  up  of  many  simpler  feelings,  both 
sense-feelings  and  simpler  emotional  states,  which  coalesce 
in  a  mass  of  feeling.  Such  coalescence  takes  place  by  the 
aid  of  association.  It  is  the  result  of  a  number  of  agree- 
able or  disagreeable  associations  successively  attaching 
themselves  to  one  and  the  same  object.  In  this  way  arise 
the  child's  permanent  likings  for  his  favorite  toys  and 
books,  his  home  surroundings,  the  streams  and  woods 
which  are  his  frequent  resort,  and  his  brute  and  human 
companions.  The  more  numerous  and  varied  the  experi- 
ences which  combine  in  these  associations,  the  greater  the 
volume  of  the  resulting  feeling. 

Habits  of  Feeling. — The  highest  result  of  these  pro- 
cesses of  association  is  the  formation  of  a  permanent  habit 
of  feeling.  A  child  who  has  contracted  a  strong  liking  or 
disliking  for  a  person  or  a  place  can  not  see  or  think  about 

*  The  reader  should  compare  this  with  what  was  said  in  chapter  ix 
on  the  effect  of  feeling  in  fixing  impressions  on  tlic  mind.  A  feeling 
associated  with  an  impression  strengthens  this,  and  conversely  is  itself 
revived  by  its  medium. 


GROWTH  OF   THE  EMOTIONS. 


293 


the  object  without  experiencing  a  revival  of  the  feeling. 
In  this  way  are  developed  customary  or  habitual  modes  of 
feeling  toward  the  various  objects  of  his  surroundings. 
The  formation  of  these  fixed  habits  or  dispositions  consti- 
tutes one  important  part  of  emotional  development. 

The  formation  of  these  fixed  habits  involves  a  loss  of 
the  early  intensity,  and  a  growth  in  respect  of  calmness 
and  depth.  Children's  feelings  are  strong  and  explosive  ; 
feelings  of  older  people  are  calmer,  but  more  lasting.  This 
illustrates  the  effect  of  custom  touched  on  just  now.  At 
the  same  time,  the  growth  of  an  emotional  habit  implies  a 
large  increase  oi  potential  intensity.  Thus  the  calmer  and 
riper  love  of  a  boy  of  fifteen  for  his  mother  includes  a 
much  higher  capacity  of  feeling  strongly  when  occasion 
calls  for  it,  e.  g.,  when  meeting  her  after  an  interval  of 
separation,  or  receiving  some  unlooked-for  kindness  from 
her.  The  effect  of  repetition  and  custom  shows  itself,  too, 
in  the  growth  of  periodic  cravings  for  the  beloved  object, 
and  in  a  greatly  intensified  susceptibility  to  the  sufferings 
of  losing  the  valued  possession. 

Order  of  Development  of  the  Emotions.— The 
various  emotions,  like  the  intellectual  faculties,  appear  to 
unfold  themselves  in  the  order  of  increasing  complexity 
and  representativeness.  Thus  the  feeling  of  fear  comes 
among  the  earliest,  because  it  is  simple  in  its  composition, 
and  involves  a  lower  degree  of  representative  power.  All 
that  is  needed  to  develop  a  feeling  of  dread  is  a  physical 
suffering  and  a  degree  of  retentiveness  sufficient  to  build 
up  an  association  of  this  with  an  object  or  place.  A  feel- 
ing of  affection  for  a  person  comes  later  than  this,  because 
it  involves  a  greater  complexity  of  experience  and  a  higher 
degree  of  retentive  power. 

We  may,  for  our  present  purpose,  conveniently  divide 
the  emotions  into  three  classes,  answering  roughly  to  three 
grades  of  complexity  :  (i)  The  first  group  are  the  so- 
called  egoistic  feelings.     As  the  name  suggests,  they  have 


294  I^HE  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING. 

to  do  with  the  individual,  his  wants,  interests,  and  well- 
being.  They  all  have  a  common  root  in  the  instinct  of 
self-preservation  and  self-furtherance.  Being  of  the  great- 
est consequence  for  the  maintenance  of  the  individual  life, 
they  are  the  first  to  be  developed.  They  include  the  well- 
known  feelings,  fear,  anger,  love  of  power,  and  so  forth 
Some  of  them,  as  anger  and  envy,  are  directed  toward 
others,  and,  since  they  serve  to  divide  individuals  one  from 
another  in  an  attitude  of  antagonism,  are  known  as  anti- 
social  feelings. 

(2)  The  second  group  consists  of  the  social  feelings. 
These,  as  the  name  suggests,  have  the  general  character  of 
being  favorable  to  others,  and  so  subserve  human  compan- 
ionship and  friendship.  Hence  they  have  a  higher  moral 
value  than  the  egoistic  feelings.  Being  unconnected  with 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation,  and  serving  rather  to 
check  the  action  of  this,  they  manifest  themselves  later  in 
the  history  of  the  child.  These  feelings  include  a  number 
of  emotions  of  very  unequal  value,  from  a  liking  for  an- 
other's approving  smile  up  to  a  perfectly  disinterested 
sympathy,  and  from  a  restricted  and  largely  egoistic  love 
for  a  parent  up  to  a  wide-spreading  emotion  of  benevo- 
lence. 

(3)  The  third  group  consists  of  highly  complex  feel- 
ings, which  are  commonly  known  as  sentiments,  such  as 
patriotism,  the  feeling  for  nature,  for  humanity.  These 
are  commonly  brought  under  three  heads  :  the  intellectual 
sentiment,  or  the  love  of  truth ;  the  aesthetic  sentiment,  or 
admiration  of  the  beautiful ;  and  the  moral  sentiment,  or 
reverence  for  duty.  These  emotions  in  their  developed 
form  attach  themselves  to  certain  abstract  ideas — truth, 
beauty,  moral  goodness.  Hence  they  presuppose  a  much 
higher  stage  of  mental  development  than  the  other  two 
groups.  Their  culture  forms  the  last  and  crowning  phase 
of  the  education  of  the  emotions. 

Characteristics  of  Children's  Feelings.— The  feel- 


CHILDREN'S  EMOTIONS.  295 

ings  of  early  life  are,  as  already  hinted,  to  a  large  extent 
egoistic.  The  germ  of  affection  may  be  detected,  but  this 
has  little  of  a  disinterested  character.  And  though  the 
rudiment  of  aesthetic  taste  is  present,  this  is  confined  to 
the  sensuous  side  of  things  (brightness,  color,  etc.).  At 
the  beginning  of  life  the  bodily  pleasures  and  pains  make 
up  the  chief  part  of  the  experience  of  feeling.  Among 
these  must  be  included  the  pleasures  and  pains  of  appe- 
tite, which  form  sO  conspicuous  an  ingredient  in  the  early 
experience  of  feeling.  Even  those  traces  of  emotion 
properly  so  called  which  appear  at  this  time  are  closely 
allied  to  these  lower  sense-feelings.  Thus  temper  is  at 
first  the  immediate  outcome  of  physical  pain,  envy  the  out- 
come of  greediness,  and  so  forth.  In  the  first  years  of  life 
feeling  is  bound  up  with  the  bodily  life  and  the  lower  forms 
of  sensation. 

Another  characteristic  closely  connected  with  this  is 
that  the  emotional  states  of  the  child  are  immediately  de- 
pendent on  actual  impressions.  Fear  is  excited  by  the 
sight  of  a  dog,  but  not  yet  by  a  mental  image  of  it.  In 
other  words,  the  child's  emotions  are  only  directly  excited 
by  present  objects.  The  low  degree  of  representative  or 
imaginative  power  does  not  allow  as  yet  of  a  reproduction 
and  ideal  gratification  of  feeling. 

This  predominance  of  the  physical  element  and  the  con- 
trol of  feeling  by  present  circumstances  may  help  us  to 
understand  other  characteristics  of  childish  feeling.  Its 
most  striking  feature  is  its  intensity  and  violence.  We 
commonly  talk  about  the  passionateness  of  children. 
The  outbreaks  of  childish  temper  are  in  their  stormy  vio- 
lence and  their  complete  mastery  of  the  mind  unlike  any- 
thing that  occurs  in  later  life— at  least  in  the  case  of  those 
who  have  learned  to  govern  their  passions.  This  turbulence 
of  emotion,  which  produces  the  most  marked  effects  on 
the  mind  and  body  alike,  is  connected  with  the  absence 
of  reflected  power.     The  physical  discomfort  is  all-absorb- 


296    THE  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING. 

ing  while  it  lasts,  because  the  child  is  unable  to  bring 
memory  and  reflection  to  his  aid,  so  as  to  recognize  the 
triviality  of  the  cause,  the  fugitive  nature  of  the  pain,  and 
so  forth.  Similarly,  the  sight  of  a  dog  fills  the  mind  of  a 
timid  child  with  terror  for  the  time,  because  the  mind  is 
unable  to  recollect  and  reflect.  And  while  the  subjuga- 
tion of  the  mind  by  feeling  is  thus  favored  by  the  intellect- 
ual weakness  of  the  child  and  his  low  degree  of  representa- 
tive power,  it  is  also  furthered  by  the  backwardness  of  his 
moral  development,  the  want  of  a  sense  of  the  unseemliness 
and  mischievousness  of  immoderate  passion,  and  the  want 
of  the  power  of  will  needed  to  check  and  curb  the  forces 
of  emotion. 

With  this  violence  of  childish  feeling  there  is  corre- 
lated another  characteristic,  viz.,  its  fugitiveness.  The 
passionate  child  differs  from  the  passionate  man  in  the 
transitoriness  of  his  outbreaks.  This  is  their  redeeming 
side.  There  is  something  almost  amusing  in  watching  the 
storm  of  passion  suddenly  stilled  by  the  suggestion  of 
some  divergent  train  of  ideas.  The  little  sufferer  who  has 
been  thrown  into  an  agony  of  distress  by  the  accidental 
breakage  of  a  toy  is  at  once  restored  to  his  usual  serenity 
and  cheerfulness  by  the  introduction  of  some  new  and  di- 
verting object. 

This  outwardness  of  feeling  or  dependence  on  present 
external  circumstances  shows  itself  further  in  the  charac- 
teristic changeableness  and  capriciousness  of  children's 
emotions.  The  child  has  but  few  fixed  likings  or  antipa- 
thies. To-day  he  is  full  of  caresses  for  his  nurse  or  his 
toy-animal ;  to-morrow  he  varies  his  mood  and  •  heaps 
abuse  on  his  favorite.  The  annoyance  of  the  present  mo- 
ment is  not  supplemented  and  counterbalanced  by  the  re- 
membered gratifications  of  the  past.  Each  feeling  is  thus 
the  result  of  the  present  circumstances  and  experience :  it 
does  not  gather  up  the  results  of  many  successive  experi- 
ences. 


/ 

REGULATING    YOUTHFUL  EMOTION.       297 

The  Education  of  the  Feelings.— The  cultivation 
and  management  of  the  feelings  forms  a  large  and  im- 
portant part  of  education.  Viewed  in  one  way,  this  edu- 
cation of  the  feelings  has  as  its  object  the  child's  own 
happiness.  From  this  point  of  view  the  special  object 
would  be  so  to  regulate  the  feelings  of  the  young  as  to 
provide  them  with  the  richest  and  most  varied  means  of 
happiness.  This  aim  again  culminates  in  the  cultivation 
of  the  mind  as  a  whole,  and  the  development  of  intel- 
lectual interests  and  aesthetic  taste.  And  this  direction  of 
emotional  culture  connects  itself  very  closely  with  intel- 
lectual education.  Finally,  the  educator  may  consider 
the  feelings  rather  from  a  practical  and  ethical  point  of 
view  as  providing  the  motives  or  springs  of  action.  And 
here  his  special  aim  will  be  to  convert  emotional  force 
into  the  best  stimulus  to  the  will,  so  as  to  render  the  child 
efficient  in  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  life.  This  prac- 
tical view,  while  including  a  reference  to  the  individual 
child's  own  happiness,  is  more  specially  concerned  with 
the  claims  of  others  and  the  obligations  of  the  individual 
to  the  community.  It  connects  itself  closely  with  the 
ends  of  moral  training. 

When  we  speak  of  the  educator  aiding  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  feelings,  we  imply  that  the  emotional  sensi- 
bilities of  the  individual  are  to  some  extent  acted  on  by 
his  social  environment.  This  may  not  at  first  sight  seem 
evident.  The  means  of  stimulating  the  intellectual  powers 
of  the  child  lie  in  the  parent's  or  teacher's  hand.  He  can 
set  objects  before  his  eye,  communicate  knowledge  by 
means  of  words,  and  so  directly  act  upon  his  faculties. 
But  how  is  he  to  work  on  the  feelings  of  the  child  ?  how, 
for  example,  excite  a  feeling  of  pity  or  of  shame  in  the 
breast  of  a  child  ?  Yet  observation  shows  that  children's 
feelings  are  to  a  considerable  extent  under  the  control  of 
those  with  whom  they  live  ;  and  we  have  to  inquire  into 
the  means  by  which  this  influence  is  excited. 


298    THE  FEELINGS:  NATURE   OF  FEELING. 

The  culture  of  the  emotions  falls  into  two  well-marked 
divisions :  (a)  the  negative  culture,  or  the  due  limitation 
of  the  forces  of  passion ;  and  {b)  the  positive  culture,  or 
the  calling  forth  and  developing  of  the  feelings. 

(a)  Repression  of  Feeling.— There  are  emotions 
which  are  apt  to  exist  in  excess,  such  as  fear  and  the  anti- 
social feelings.  These  must  to  a  certain  extent  be  re- 
pressed, whether  for  the  child's  physical  or  moral  good,  or 
in  the  interests  of  others.  In  truth,  one  great  aim  of  the 
educator  is  to  bring  the  turbulence  of  children's  feelings 
under  restraint. 

The  problem  of  subduing  the  force  of  feeling  in  the 
young  is  in  some  respects  a  peculiarly  difficult  one.  As 
we  have  seen,  their  passionate  outbursts  are  marked  by 
great  violence,  and  this  makes  it  difficult  for  the  educator 
to  reach  and  influence  the  child's  mind  when  under  the 
sway  of  emotion.  Moreover,  the  great  agency  by  which, 
as  we  shall  see  by-and-by,  the  force  of  feeling  is  checked 
and  counteracted,  namely,  an  effort  of  self-restraint,  can 
not  be  relied  on  in  the  case  of  young  children,  owing  to 
the  feebleness  of  their  wills.  At  the  same  time,  the  mo- 
bility of  the  child's  mind  is  favorable  to  the  diversion  of 
his  attention  from  the  exciting  cause  of  the  passion,  and  in 
this  way  it  is  in  ordinary  cases  easy  for  the  educator  to  quiet 
the  turbulence  of  passion  after  its  first  violence  is  over. 

In  addition  to  thus  seeking  to  subdue  the  force  of 
passion  when  actually  excited,  the  wise  teacher  will  aim 
at  weakening  the  underlying  sensibilities.  In  the  matter 
of  the  feelings  it  is  emphatically  true  that  prevention  is 
better  than  cure.  Thus  he  has  to  take  care  that  children 
with  a  strong  disposition  to  violent  temper  should  not  be 
exposed  to  circumstances  likely  to  inflame  their  passion. 
An  envious  child  ought  not  to  be  placed  in  a  situation 
which  is  pretty  certain  to  excite  this  feeling.  An  emo- 
tional susceptibility  may  to  some  extent  be  weakened  and 
even  "  starved  out "  through  want  of  exercise. 


CONTROL   OF    THE  EMOTIONS.  299 

Again,  feelings  may  be  weakened  by  strengthening  the 
intellectual  side  of  the  child's  mind,  adding  to  his  knowl- 
edge, and  exercising  his  powers  of  reflection  and  judg- 
ment. In  this  way,  for  example,  children's  first  foolish 
terrors  will  be  undermined  by  the  gradual  melting  away 
of  childish  superstitions  under  the  general  influence  of  a 
truer  knowledge  of  Nature  and  her  laws.  Similarly,  the 
violence  of  grief  is  tempered  by  the  development  of  the 
faculty  of  judgment,  and  the  ability  to  compare  things  and 
view  them  in  their  real  proportions. 

Finally,  the  weakening  or  deadening  of  an  unlovely  or 
injurious  feeling  is  best  effected  by  strengthening  some 
opposed  type  of  feeling.  Thus  every  exercise  of  a  feeling 
of  regard  for  others'  good  qualities  tends  to  enfeeble  a 
child's  conceit.  Every  exercise  in  kindness  and  con- 
sideration for  others  helps  to  weaken  the  impulses  of 
anger  and  envy.  The  educator,  as  Waitz  remarks,  aims 
at  curbing  and  weakening  the  lower  egoistic  feelings  by 
developing  the  higher  social  and  moral  sentiments. 

(b)  Stimulation  of  Emotion. — What  we  call  the 
culture  of  feeling  is,  however,  largely  concerned  with  the 
problem  of  strengthening  and  developing  certain  emo- 
tions. This  applies  in  a  special  manner  to  the  higher 
feelings,  viz.,  the  social  feelings  and  the  abstract  senti- 
ments. The  formation  of  the  higher  interests,  intellectual 
and  aesthetic,  and  the  development  of  good  feelings  toward 
others,  and  a  sense  of  duty,  implies  that  the  educator  set 
himself  directly  to  excite  and  call  forth  feeling.*  Since 
feeling  grows  by  exercise,  the  educator  must  use  means  to 
call  forth  the  particular  emotional  susceptibility  into  full 

*  Waitz  argues  well  against  the  idea  (originating  in  Rousseau's 
general  conception  of  education)  that  the  educator's  function  in  rela- 
tion to  the  feelings  is  merely  to  restrain  and  not  to  stimulate.  He 
points  out  that  while  repression  is  the  main  thing  in  the  earlier  stages 
of  development,  stimulation  becomes  more  and  more  important  as  the 
child  advances.     ("  AUgemeine  Paedagogik,"  pp.  146-147.) 


300  THE  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING. 

and  vigorous  play.  There  are  two  principal  agencies  of 
which  the  educator  can  avail  himself  here,  (i)  First  of 
all,  the  child  may  be  introduced  to  objects  or  circum- 
stances which  are  fitted  to  excite  a  particular  feeling. 
Thus,  by  presenting  to  a  child  some  instance  of  suffering, 
the  parent  aims  at  directly  evoking  a  feeling  of  pity.  In 
a  similar  way,  pretty  objects,  stories,  etc.,  serve  to  call 
forth  the  feeling  of  aesthetic  admiration.  As  supplement- 
ary to  this  presentation  of  suitable  objects,  the  educator 
may,  by  inducing  the  child  to  put  forth  his  activities,  set 
him  in  the  way  of  acquiring  new  experiences  for  himself 
and  so  of  discovering  new  modes  of  pleasure.  In  this 
manner  an  indolent,  unambitious  child  may  be  roused  to 
activity  by  a  first  taste  of  the  pleasures  of  success  and  the 
delight  of  well-earned  commendation.  All  intellectual 
training  aims  at  developing  certain  feelings  or  interests  by 
calling  forth  corresponding  modes  of  mental  activity. 

(2)  In  the  second  place,  much  may  be  done  by  the 
habitual  manifestation  of  a  particular  feeling  by  those 
who  constitute  the  child's  social  environments.  Children 
tend  to  reflect  the  feelings  they  see  expressed  by  their 
parents,  teachers,  and  young  companions.  The  explana- 
tion of  this  process  of  emotional  imitation  will  be  supplied 
when  we  come  to  deal  with  the  subject  of  sympathy. 
Here  it  is  enough  to  refer  to  it  as  one  of  the  great  instru- 
mentalities by  which  the  educator  may  help  to  mold  the 
growing  emotional  nature  of  the  child. 

The  aim  of  the  educator  in  developing  the  feelings 
should  be  to  build  up  strong  and  permanent  attachments 
or  affections  for  worthy  things,  persons,  and  modes  of 
activity.  And  here  the  principles  of  repetition  and  asso- 
ciation become  important.  The  feeling  for  the  home,  for 
the  school,  for  the  teacher,  and  for  school-work  is  highly 
composite,  the  product  of  a  slow  process  of  accumulation 
and  growth.  If  the  educator  wants  to  develop  a  strong 
liking  for  a  subject  of  study,  he  must  manage  to  present  it 


MANAGEMENT  OF   THE  EMOTIONS.        301 

in  a  pleasurable  light,  to  connect  it  by  as  many  associa- 
tions as  possible  with  what  is  agreeable.  Similarly,  in 
seeking  to  excite  a  permanent  feeling  of  affection  for  him- 
self, he  has  to  build  up  a  mass  of  agreeable  feeling.  He 
should  remember,  too,  that  even  accidental  associations 
exert  a  powerful  influence,  and  seek  as  far  as  possible  to 
make  all  the  surroundings  and  accompaniments  of  what 
is  to  be  esteemed  or  admired  worthy  and  impressive. 

In  order  to  help  in  building  up  such  a  lasting  affection, 
the  educator  must  be  on  his  guard  against  a  too  frequent 
indulgence  of  feeling  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  too  fre- 
quent wounding  of  the  susceptibility  on  the  other.  A  boy 
who  is  continually  being  caressed  by  his  mother  or  praised 
by  his  teacher  is  apt  to  set  little  store  by  these  things. 
No  feeling  must  be  indulged  up  to  the  point  of  satiety. 
And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  educator  should  bear  in  mind 
that  the  frequent  wounding  of  any  feeling  is  apt  to  deaden 
it.  A  boy  who  never  got  praise  when  he  felt  he  deserved 
it  would  tend  to  grow  indifferent  to  it.  Affection  unre- 
quited dies  from  starvation.  The  more  delicate  feelings, 
as  shame,  as  Locke  observes,  "  can  not  be  kept  and  often 
transgressed  against."  * 

One  more  general  caution  may  be  added.  The  edu- 
cator must  be  on  his  guard  against  spurious  sickly  feel- 
ings and  the  mere  outward  affectation  of  feeling.  The 
very  eagerness  of  the  parent  or  teacher  to  cultivate  good 
feelings,  and  the  wish  of  children  to  please,  are,  as  Locke 
points  out,  favorable  to  the  growth  of  affectation. f  The 
educator  must  not  try  to  force  feelings,  or,  by  looking  out 
for  the  expression  of  feeling,  induce  children  to  try  to 
simulate  the  appearance  of  sensibility,];  nor  must  he  allow 

*  '*  Thoughts  concerning  Education,"  §  60.  f  Ibid.,  §  66. 

X  **  Nothing,"  says  Miss  Edgeworth,  "  hurts  young  people  more  than 
to  be  watched  continually  about  their  feelings,  to  have  their  counte- 
nances scrutinized,  and  the  degrees  of  their  sensibility  measured  by 
the  surveying  eye  of  the  unmerciful  spectator."  ("Practical  Educa- 
tion," chap.  X.) 


302 


THE  FEELINGS:  NATURE  OF  FEELING. 


children's  natural  wish  to  please  lead  them  spontaneously 
to  an  affectation  of  pleasing  sentiments.  He  must  be 
severe  in  discriminating  a  genuine  and  worthy  feeling, 
say  of  pity  or  remorse,  from  its  unworthy  and  sentimental 
imitation,  and  the  more  outward  show  for  the  inward  re- 
ality ;  and  he  must  not  allow  feeling  to  divorce  itself  from 
action  and  to  lapse  into  mere  emotional  indulgence,  in- 
stead of  becoming  efficient  as  a  motive  to  conduct. 

APPENDIX. 

The  laws  of  development  of  the  feelings  are  touched  on  by  Dr. 
Bain,  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap,  iii  ("  Culture  of  the  Emotions  "). 
The  successive  phases  of  emotional  development  in  childhood  and 
youth  are  described  by  Pfisterer,  "  Paed.  Psychologic,"  gi^  7,  18,  and 
34.  The  general  aim  of  emotional  culture  and  its  relation  to  the  other 
directions  of  education  are  treated  of  by  Waitz,  *' Allgem.  Peed.,"  2. 
Theil,  2.  Ab.  ("Die  Gemiithsbildung  ") ;  Dittes,  "  Grundriss,"  i^j^  50- 
55  ;  and  Compayre,  "  Cours  de  Pedagogic,"  le9on  ix.  Cf.  J.  S.  Mill's 
"  Inaugural  Address  at  St.  Andrews  "  (People's  Edition),  p.  42,  etc. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE   EGOISTIC    AND    SOCIAL    FEELINGS. 

In  the  previous  chapter  a  general  account  was  given 
of  the  nature  of  feeling.  We  may  now  go  on  to  consider 
the  feelings  in  detail.  Here  we  shall  follow  the  order  of 
development  and  begin  with  the  egoistic  feelings,  briefly 
discussing  a  few  of  the  more  prominent  types,  such  as 
fear,  anger,  love  of  activity,  with  which  the  educator  is 
specially  concerned. 

(A)  Egoistic  Feelings :  Fear.— One  of  the  earli- 
est feelings  to  be  developed  is  fear,  the  more  intense  de- 
grees of  which  are  marked  off  as  terror.  This  is  the 
simplest  form  of  an  emotion  pure  and  simple,  that  is  to 
say,  a  feeling  which  has  no  admixture  of  present  sensa- 
tion, but  springs  out  of  mental  activity.  Fear  arises  from 
the  idea  and  anticipation  of  evil,  and  thus  involves  a  sim- 
ple act  of  mental  representation.  It  presupposes  a  pre- 
vious experience  of  pain  in  some  form,  and  the  formation 
of  an  association  between  this  experience  and  its  cause  or 
accompaniment.  Thus  the  child's  proverbial  dread  of  the 
fire  is  the  natural  consequent  of  some  actual  experience 
of  its  burning  quality.  At  the  same  time  there  is  good 
reason  to  suppose  that  certain  forms  of  fear  are  aided 
by  inherited  association.  Children  of  a  certain  age  are 
apt  to  display  fear  in  the  presence  of  animals  and  strange 
persons,  before  their  experience  can  have  led  them  to  con- 
nect any  idea  of  danger  with  these  objects.     And   the 


304    THE  EGOISTIC  AND   SOCIAL   FEELINGS. 

timidity  shown  by  children  when  they  begin  to  walk  can 
not  easily  be  explained  as  the  result  of  individual  experi- 
ence.* 

While  experience  is  thus  necessary,  in  the  first  place, 
to  suggest  danger,  it  is  not  necessary  that  a  child  should 
have  had  experience  of  the  particular  form  of  evil  sug- 
gested in  a  given  case.  When  once  his  mind  has  grown 
familiar  with  certain  varieties  of  pain,  the  exercise  of  his 
imagination  may  suffice  to  excite  fear  in  the  presence  of 
new  and  unknown  evils.  It  is  easy  to  excite  fear  in  a 
child's  mind  by  any  suggestion  of  unexperienced  evil, 
e.  g.,  falling  into  water,  a  fact  well  known  to  a  certain 
class  of  nurse-maids  and  others,  f 

In  its  more  intense  forms  fear  is  always  bound  up  with 
an  indefinite  representation  of  the  threatening  evil.  Where 
the  mind  distinctly  realizes  the  precise  nature  and  extent 
of  a  suffering,  the  more  striking  characteristics  of  fear  are 
wanting.  Hence  some  of  the  most  distressing  forms  of 
childish  fear  arise  in  presence  of  unknown  and  therefore 
immeasurable  possibilities  of  evil,  e.  g.,  when  threatened 
with  being  handed  over  to  the  policeman.^*  The  agitating 
effect  of  fear  is  further  increased  by  the  uncertainty  of 
the  evil.  It  is  harder  to  calmly  face  an  uncertain  misery 
than  a  certain  one. 

As  a  form  of  painful  feeling,  we  should  expect  fear  to 
have  a  depressing  effect  on  the  mental  and  bodily  activi- 
ties. But  the  peculiarity  of  the  emotion  is  its  unnerving 
and  disabling  character.  The  intellectual  processes  are 
arrested,  the  attention  is  rigidly  held  by  the  exciting  ob- 

*  For  a  discussion  of  the  question  how  far  fear  is  inherited,  see  Pe- 
rez, "  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p.  62,  etc.  ;  Preyer,  "  Die  Seele 
des  Kindes,"  p.  104,  etc.  A  question  much  disputed  by  educationists, 
from  Locke  downward,  is  whether  children  have  an  instinctive  fear  of 
the  dark,  Locke  is  positive  that  the  fear  of  the  dark  is  not  instinctive. 
("On  Education,"  ed.  by  Quick,  p.  118.) 

f  Hence  the  readiness  with  which  fear  is  excited  in  the  childish 
mind  by  a  sensational  or  gruesome  story. 


THE   USES  OF  FEAR.  305 

ject,  and  the  imagination  is  apt  to  be  inflamed  to  a  peril- 
ous degree.  Abject  terror  thus  deprives  the  mind  of  all 
power.  And  there  is  something  analogous  to  this  in  the 
physical  prostration  which  accompanies  the  state.  In  its 
extreme  degrees  fear  may  bring  about  serious  bodily  de- 
rangements. 

Children  are  in  general  much  disposed  to  this  emotion. 
A  little  experience  enables  them  to  realize  their  special 
liability  to  evil,  their  bodily  weakness,  their  ignorance,  and 
their  inability  to  cope  with  danger.  And  this  result  is 
furthered  by  their  instinctive  tendency  to  dread.  A  cer- 
tain timidity  seems  to  be  appropriate  to  childhood  ;  and 
it  is  natural  to  suppose  that  the  native  proneness  to  fear 
is  one  of  the  instinctive  endowments  that  help  to  subserve 
the  great  end  of  self-preservation.  This  characteristic  is, 
moreover,  intimately  connected  with  the  earliest  form  of 
the  social  instinct,  viz.,  the  impulse  to  seek  the  society  of 
others  as  a  mode  of  security,  and  to  depend  on  them  for 
protection  and  guidance.* 

The  educator  is  concerned  with  this  feeling  in  differ- 
ent ways.  First  of  all,  he  has  to  guard  children  against 
all  groundless  and  debasing  forms  of  the  emotion,  more 
particularly  superstitious  terror  and  the  fear  of  the  dark. 
It  is  of  the  first  importance,  as  Locke  says,  to  avoid  all 
suggestions  which  give  rise  to  childish  fright.  Careless 
parents,  by  over-indulging  children  in  sensational  stories 
about  hobgoblins  and  so  forth,  often  excite  a  timidity  in 
the  young  mind  of  which  they  are  unaware.f  The  educa- 
tor needs  to  watch  carefully  for  the  causes  of  children's 
fear.  Children  often  connect  ideas  of  danger  with  things 
as  the  result  of  accidental  associations.     Miss  Edgeworth 

*  At  the  same  time  this  feeling  acts  as  a  powerful  check  to  the 
social  feelings ;  more  particularly  it  shows  itself  in  the  common  timid- 
ity and  shyness  of  children  in  the  presence  of  strangers. 

f  Locke  is  very  hard  on  nurses  for  putting  notions  of  spirits  and 
goblins  into  children's  minds,  "  Thoughts,"  §  138. 


3o6     THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL   FEELINGS. 

gives  as  an  instance  the  dread  of  a  child  for  a  drum  which 
he  first  saw  played  by  a  Merry-Andrew  in  a  mask.  Chil- 
dren's tendency  to  fear  must  be  corrected  by  the  develop- 
ment of  the  opposite  feeling  of  courage  and  self-confi- 
dence ;  and  their  wills  should  be  exercised  in  a  habit  of 
courageously  facing  the  sources  of  dread.  In  this  way 
much  of  childish  fear  will  disappear.  Finally,  the  great 
remedy  for  abject  and  injurious  terror  is  the  development 
of  intelligence,  which  dispels  many  of  our  early  fears  as 
purely  imaginary,  and  enables  us  to  measure  the  exact 
dimensions  of  any  particular  form  of  evil  and  to  assign  it 
its  proper  value.^^ 

While  the  educator  has  thus  to  restrain  fear  and  rob 
it  of  its  overpowering  and  debasing  force,  he  has  at  the 
same  time  to  preserve  and  make  use  of  the  feeling  in  its 
milder  forms.  After  a  certain  amount  of  experience, 
timidity  is  apt  to  give  place  to  a  foolish  recklessness  in 
encountering  danger.  In  the  first  delightful  sense  of 
growing  strength  the  boy  is  liable  to  exaggerate  his  ability 
to  cope  with  danger.  And  here  it  is  desirable  to  cultivate 
a  certain  cautiousness  and  apprehensiveness.  And  gen- 
erally the  educator,  while  discouraging  excessive  and 
harmful  varieties  of  the  emotion,  as  the  dread  of  being 
laughed  at,  has  to  call  forth  and  strengthen  the  emotion 
in  relation  to  proper  and  worthy  objects,  as  wrong  actions 
and  the  loss  of  others*  esteem. 

Finally,  the  educator  needs  the  emotion  of  fear  as  a 
motive  force.  Every  governor  has  to  work  to  some  ex- 
tent on  the  fear  of  the  governed,  and  the  teacher  is  no 
exception.  Here,  however,  he  must  be  careful  not  to  ex- 
cite the  emotion  in  its  unnerving  and  prostrating  intensity. 
The  policy  of  compelling  by  threat,  if  carried  out  to  its 
cruel  extremity,  must  necessarily  defeat  its  own  end.  By 
exciting  terror  in  children  we  deprive  them  of  the  power 
of  doing  the  very  things  which-we  require.  Where,  how- 
ever, the  evil  is  definite  in  character,  and  of  dimensions 


ANGER  AS  AN  EMOTION,  307 

which  can  be  grasped  by  the  pupil's  mind,  the  agitation 
of  terror  is  eliminated,  and  the  will  is  spurred  to  activity 
by  a  calm  apprehension  of  a  realizable  amount  of  suffer- 
ing. 

Anger,  Antipathy.— To  the  same  class  of  simple 
primitive  feelings  as  fear  must  be  referred  the  emotion  of 
anger.  This  resembles  fear  in  the  fact  that  it  springs  out 
of  an  experience  of  pain.  But,  unlike  fear,  it  has  a  dis- 
tinctly pleasurable  ingredient.  We  speak  of  the  gratifica- 
tion of  the  angry  passions.  The  feeling  of  anger  proper 
contrasts  with  fear  in  having  as  its  accompaniment  an 
energetic  form  of  activity.  A  child  in  an  angry  passion 
is  not  prostrated  and  paralyzed  as  in  the  state  of  fear,  but 
is  thrown  into  a  state  of  violent  muscular  action.  At  the 
same  time  the  violence  of  the  activity  and  its  irregular 
and  spasmodic  character  make  it  baneful  and  destructive 
of  energy.  A  fit  of  angry  temper  exhausts  the  strength 
of  the  child. 

In  its  simplest  form,  as  seen  in  the  passionate  outbreak 
of  an  infant  at  the  beginning  of  life,  anger  is  the  direct 
outcome  of  physical  pain,  and  may  be  described  as  the 
instinctive  revolt  of  a  sentient  creature  against  the  dispen- 
sation of  suffering.  Later  on,  this  crude  type  of  feeling, 
in  which  the  physical  element  predominates,  becomes  dif- 
ferentiated into  the  emotion  of  anger  proper.*  This  feel- 
ing is  based  on  a  consciousness  of  another's  action  op- 
posed to  the  child's  own,  and  involves  a  rudimentary 
sense  of  injury.  It  is  closely  connected  in  its  origin  with 
the  animal  impulse  of  combat,  and  probably  derives  its 
energetic  character  from  this  circumstance.  It  thus  has 
its  root,  like  fear,  in  the  instinct  of  self-preservation.  It 
is  the  accompaniment  of  the  outgoings  of  the  impulse  of 
self-defense  against  an  adversary.  And  the  deep  pleasure 
which  attends  the  indulgence  of  angry  passion  is  probably 

*  Mr.  Darwin  says  anger  proper  is  distinctly  manifested  before  the 
fourth  month. 

21 


3o8    THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL   FEELINGS. 

connected  with  the  circumstance  that  the  passion  is  the 
most  rousing  to  the  energies  alike  of  body  and  of  mind, 
and  includes  the  satisfaction  of  the  most  powerful  of  our 
animal  instincts. 

Children  are  notoriously  much  under  the  dominion  of 
this  primitive  passion.  They  resent  suffering,  and  vent 
their  resentment  in  outbreaks  of  impotent  childish  wrath, 
screaming,  dashing  things  to  the  ground,  and,  in  extreme 
cases,  casting  themselves  in  a  kind  of  mad  despair  on  the 
floor.  Not  being  able  as  yet  to  distinguish  in  moments 
of  mental  agitation  between  intentional  and  unintentional 
injury,  they  are  at  such  times  wont  to  pour  out  the  vials 
of  infantile  wrath  on  the  unoffending  heads  of  their  doll, 
toy-horse,  or  any  other  inanimate  thing  which  happens  to 
cause  them  annoyance. 

Anger  shows  itself  in  a  variety  of  forms.  In  its  pure 
form  of  retaliation  it  has  as  its  exciting  cause  the  percep- 
tion of  another's  injurious  action  or  intention.  Being 
closely  allied  in  its  origin  with  the  instinct  of  combat,  it 
accompanies  all  the  more  exciting  varieties  of  contest  in  a 
more  or  less  distinct  form.  As  a  mere  delight  in  annoy- 
ing and  injuring,  it  frequently  associates  itself  with  the 
love  of  power  in  its  coarser  and  more  brutal  forms,  and 
constitutes  a  prime  ingredient  in  the  well-known  boyish 
type,  the  bully.  It  commonly  combines  with  the  strong 
destructive  instincts  of  children  in  fostering  that  love  of 
cruelty  to  animals  of  which  they  are  commonly  accused.* 
It  makes  its  harsh  voice  heard  in  the  shout  of  cruel  boyish 
ridicule.  In  a  less  pleasurable  and  triumphant  form  the 
feeling  of  anger  shows  itself  as  a  nascent  hatred  or  spite 
m  the  child's  envy  at  another's  happiness,  and,  more  par- 

*  According  to  Dr.  Bain,  there  is  an  instinctive  delight  in  the  wit- 
nessing of  suffering,  which  forms  the  core  of  the  gratification  of  the 
malign  passion.  But  Locke  thinks  cruelty  is  due  to  bad  education. 
See  "On  Education,"  sec.  66. 


THE  ANTI-SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 


309 


ticularly,  his  jealousy  at  seeing  another  child  caressed  and 
favored.* 

When  it  takes  a  firm  root  in  the  mind,  anger  may  de- 
velop into  a  permanent  antipathy  or  dislike  to  a  person. 
Children  show  an  animal-like  readiness  to  contract  such 
lasting  dispositions  to  those  who  have  (actually  or  appar- 
ently) done  them  harm  or  offered  them  offense. 

As  the  anti-social  feeling  which  divides  man  from  man, 
the  instinct  of  retaliation,  though  useful  and  necessary  to 
the  individual,  makes  a  heavy  demand  on  the  restraining 
forces  of  the  educator.  It  would  clearly  be  fatal  to  the 
happiness  and  the  moral  development  of  the  child  to  hu- 
mor its  temper  and  to  allow  its  outbreaks  of  angry  passion 
to  go  unchecked.  The  brute-like  violence  of  infantile 
temper  must  be  assuaged.  But  this  can  not  be  done  by  a 
mere  employment  of  physical  force.  When,  to  take  Rous- 
seau's example,  the  nurse  beats  a  child  for  crying,  the  dis- 
cipline is  not  likely  to  calm  its  passion  or  cure  its  irritability. 

The  passionate  child  must  be  appealed  to  on  its  human 
and  reasonable  side.  Thus  all  provocatives  of  violent 
passion  must  be  avoided.  The  parent  must  not,  for  ex- 
ample, madden  an  irascible  child  by  exciting  its  envy. 
Having  himself  to  occasion  a  considerable  amount  of  an- 
noyance by  the  restraints  of  discipline,  he  must  take  par- 
ticular pains  to  allay  vindictive  feelings  in  relation  to  him- 
self. To  this  end  he  should  avoid  every  appearance  of 
irregularity,  caprice,  and  unfairness  in  his  mode  of  man- 
agement. The  sense  of  right  is  based  on  custom,  and  a 
child  that  is  customarily  allowed  an  indulgence  smarts 
under  a  nascent  sense  of  injustice  when  this  is  withheld. 
Thus  a  mother  who  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  allows  a  child 
a  light  on  going  to  bed,  and  in  the  tenth  instance  forbids 
this,  excites  a  legitimate  anger,  closely  analogous  to  moral 
indignation. 

*  For  an  account  of  the  feeling  of  jealousy  as  manifested  by  chil- 
dren and  young  animals,  see  Perez,  op.  cit.,  p.  70,  and  following. 


310    THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 

Again,  the  educator  should  call  forth  the  child's  reflect- 
ive powers,  and  cultivate  a  juster  and  sounder  view  of 
things.  As  Miss  Edgeworth  well  says,  a  propos  of  the  man- 
agement of  children's  temper,  "  you  must  alter  the  habits 
of  thinking,  you  must  change  the  view  of  the  object,  be- 
fore you  can  alter  the  feelings."  *  Thus  a  cross  and  queru- 
lous child  should  be  led  to  see  that  much  which  appears 
to  be  an  intended  injury  to  itself  is  not  so,  that  playmates 
are  apt  to  overlook  the  results  of  their  actions,  and  that 
their  parents  and  teachers  are  their  friends,  having  their 
true  interests  at  heart.  And,  as  the  child's  powers  develop, 
an  appeal  should  be  made  to  the  will  to  exert  itself  in 
checking  and  bringing  under  the  turbulent  forces  of  pas- 
sion. Lastly,  the  anti-social  impulses  should  be  limited 
and  counterbalanced  by  the  assiduous  cultivation  of  the 
social  and  kindly  feelings.  Discipline  and  a  growing  sense 
of  the  unseemliness  of  violent  passion  may  suffice  to  check 
its  outbreaks  ;  but  the  only  adequate  security  against  the 
indulgence  of  internal  malice,  hatred,  and  the  other  un- 
holy progeny  of  anger,  is  the  formation  of  a  humane  and 
generous  disposition. 

Here,  too,  as  in  other  cases,  the  educator  must  remem- 
ber that  his  function  is  not  that  of  extirpating  something 
wholly  bad.  The  impulse  of  injury  is  a  necessary  endow- 
ment, and  has  its  proper  and  legitimate  scope.  It  is  no 
doubt  true  that  society,  by  taking  the  punishment  of  the 
more  flagrant  offenses  into  its  own  hands,  deprives  the 
individual  of  the  fullest  indulgence  of  his  vindictive  in- 
stincts. At  the  same  time  it  is  equally  plain  that  it  allows 
him  a  certain  modest  field  for  the  exercise  and  manifesta- 
tion of  the  retaliative  impulse.  No  form  of  government, 
whether  that  of  the  school  or  of  the  state,  relieves  the 
individual  of  all  necessity  of  self-defense.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  is  expected  to  assert  his  own  rights,  and  to  meet 
injury  by  a  manifestation  of  those  instincts  which  Nature 
*  '*  Practical  Education,"  chap.  vi. 


DEFENSIBLE  ANGER,  311 

has  provided  for  our  self-protection.  A  child  that  is 
tame  and  spiritless,  and  allows  the  bully  to  indulge  his 
love  of  power  to  the  utmost,  proves  himself  to  be  unfitted 
to  take  his  part  in  the  battle  of  life.  And  such  servile 
submission,  so  far  from  being  praised  by  the  moral  educa- 
tor, should  if  needful  be  denounced. 

Not  only  so,  anger  is  needed  to  give  life  and  vigor  to 
higher  and  nobler  sentiments.  The  instinct  of  retaliation, 
so  brutal  and  cruel  when  untamed,  is  susceptible  of  be- 
coming softened  and  refined  into  a  worthy  feeling.  In 
the  indignant  revolt  of  the  child-mind  against  the  very 
idea  of  cruelty,  whether  to  man  or  brute,  anger  is  not  only 
stripped  of  its  unloveliness,  but  assumes  a  pleasing  and 
even  admirable  aspect.  By  cultivating  a  wide  sympathy 
with  the  sufferings  of  others,  the  educator  may  help  to 
humanize  the  instincts  of  resentment,  by  transforming 
them  into  a  genuinely  disinterested  and  impassioned  sense 
of  justice.^^ 

Love  of  Activity  and  of  Power. — We  now  come  to 
a  feeling  of  a  different  order,  viz.,  the  love  of  activity.  It 
is  egoistic,  since  the  pleasure  which  the  child  experiences 
in  exerting  his  powers  is  connected  with  and  subserves 
the  maintenance  and  furtherance  of  him  as  an  individual. 
At  the  same  time  it  is  a  feeling  which  the  educator  has 
rather  to  foster  and  utilize  as  a  motive  than  to  repress.  It 
supplies  one  of  the  well-known  educational  motives. 

As  pointed  out  above,  all  activity,  when  suitable  to  the 
powers  exerted,  is  attended  with  a  sense  of  enjoyment. 
Where  there  is  a  vigorous  body  and  brain,  and  an  ade- 
quate recuperation  of  the  powers  by  periods  of  repose, 
there  arises  a  strong  disposition  to  activity,  so  that  the 
slightest  opening  or  stimulus  is  seized  and  utilized.  This 
readiness  to  act  is  known  as  the  "  spontaneous  activity  " 
of  the  child.  Healthy  children  are  eager  to  be  doing 
something.  And  this  spontaneous  energy  vents  itself  not 
onlv  in  muscular  action,  but  in  an  exercise  of  the  sense- 


312 


THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 


organs  and  the  brain  in  examining  objects.  The  pleasure 
directly  springing  from  and  accompanying  this  discharge 
of  nervous  force  constitutes  the  sensuous  basis  of  the  love 
of  activity. 

The  feeling  acquires  more  of  the  dignity  of  an  emotion 
when  the  spontaneous  activity  meets  with  a  momentary 
check.  This  excites  a  special  exertion  of  energy  and  in- 
volves a  much  more  distinct  consciousness  of  the  action 
as  our  own.  One  may  easily  observe  the  germ  of  this 
feeling  in  a  child  of  two  or  three  months  when  absorbed 
in  some  exciting  effort,  as  trying  to  lift  a  heavy  object  or 
to  reach  one  lying  barely  within  its  reach.  The  overcom- 
ing of  the  difficulty  is  accompanied  by  a  look  of  elation 
and  a  grunt  of  satisfaction.  Here  we  have  the  first  rude 
trace  of  the  emotion  of  power.  In  the  intensification  and 
prolongation  of  its  activity  under  the  stimulus  of  an  ob- 
stacle the  child  has  woke  up  to  a  clearer  and  fuller  con- 
sciousness of  its  powers. 

The  pleasurable  feeling  of  power  is  experienced  when- 
ever the  child  succeeds  in  doing  something — whether  a 
physical  or  mental  act — that  it  could  not  do,  or  was  not 
aware  of  being  able  to  do,  before.  It  is  also  enjoyed 
when  any  action,  which  was  before  felt  to  be  difficult, 
becomes  sensibly  easier.  It  is  thus  connected  with  prog- 
ress or  growth,  and  involves  a  feeling  which  is  directly 
satisfied  by  a  comparison  between  the  past  and  the  pres- 
ent. The  feeling  of  power  further  derives  much  of  its 
gratification  from  the  social  surroundings.  In  the  face  of 
its  elders,  parents,  teacher,  etc.,  the  child  is  no  doubt  con- 
scious rather  of  its  weakness  than  of  its  strength.  And 
this  sense  of  power  may  readily  grow  into  a  distinctly 
painful  feeling.  But  children  have  a  way  of  recouping 
themselves  for  any  humiliation  from  this  source  by  em- 
phasizing to  the  utmost  any  superiority  to  other  chil- 
dren of  which  they  are  able  to  boast.  And,  in  thus  as- 
serting their  superiority  to  others,  they  are  apt  to  realize 


THE  FEELING ^ OF  POWER.  313 

the  keenest  satisfaction  of  the  feeling  of  power.  In  this 
mode  of  gratification,  however,  the  emotion  has  an  anti- 
social character.  In  its  more  exciting  forms  it  owes  much 
of  its  pungency  to  the  admixture  of  an  element  of  malig- 
nant satisfaction,  whether  the  delight  of  the  bully  in 
crushing  the  weak,  or  the  less  ignoble  rejoicing  of  the 
successful  antagonist  over  his  more  equal  rival. 

The  feeling  of  power  is  capable  of  growing  into  a  per- 
manent and  habitual  emotion,  the  agreeable  conscious- 
ness of  ability  to  do  things.  This  is  a  higher  form  of  the 
emotion,  involving  more  elaborate  processes  of  compari- 
son and  abstraction.  In  this  permanent  form  it  enters 
into  what  we  call  pride  or  self-respect. 

The  development  of  the  love  of  activity  and  power 
must  be  checked  in  certain  directions.  Children  are,  as 
Locke  observes,  greedy  of  dominion,  and  desire  supe- 
riority over  others  not  only  in  physical  and  intellectual 
strength,  but  also  in  material  possessions.  The  desire  for 
power  must  be  moderated  and  kept  within  due  limits. 
When  thus  restrained,  however,  it  becomes  a  most  valu- 
able incentive  to  exertion.  A  right  ambition  to  get  on,  to 
grow  in  strength,  knowledge,  and  skill,  is  the  prime  source 
of  youthful  effort. 

To  enjoy  the  sense  of  power,  the  child  must,  it  is  evi- 
dent, have  a  certain  liberty  of  action.  The  suffering  of 
restraint  is  the  consciousness  of  fettered  energy.  A  child 
only  does  his  best  at  anything  when  he  enjoys  a  sense  of 
spontaneous  exertion  and  self -activity.  To  throw  an  ap- 
pearance of  spontaneity  into  school-work  is  the  most  cer- 
tain means  of  rousing  his  energies  to  their  full  tension. 
The  Kindergarten  undoubtedly  owes  much  of  its  popularity 
among  children  to  the  fact  that  it  so  easily  presents  itself 
to  their  minds  as  a  sort  of  more  serious  play-room. 

In  the  higher  stages  of  education  there  seems  less  room 
for  the  action  of  this  principle.  Teaming  can  not  be  re- 
duced to  a  highly  enjoyable  experience  of  self-activity. 


314    THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 

The  very  conception  of  teaching  involves  external  restraint, 
and  this  excludes  the  full  delight  of  spontaneous  activity. 
Not  only  so,  the  teacher  must  do  very  much  to  assist  the 
faculties  of  the  child,  and  so  keep  him  in  mind  of  his  in- 
tellectual weakness.  Yet  this  very  circumstance  makes  it 
all  the  more  important  to  secure  some  scope  for  a  free, 
enjoyable  consciousness  of  power.  The  mode  of  instruc- 
tion that  humiliates  the  child  to  the  utmost  by  discourag- 
ing his  spontaneous  exertion  of  faculty  and  insisting  on 
the  fact  of  his  stupendous  ignorance  is  as  fatal  to  intellect- 
ual development  as  it  is  disagreeable.  So  far  as  comports 
with  the  exigencies  of  teaching,  the  faculties  of  the  learner 
should  be  called  upon  in  discovering  things,  so  that  he 
may  experience  that  pleasurable  consciousness  of  doing 
something  for  himself  which  is  the  most  potent  stimulus 
to  exertion. 

Not  only  so,  the  more  the  teacher  by  the  influence  of 
his  personality  takes  away  from  the  mode  of  instruction 
all  appearance  of  restraint,  and  raises  learning  to  the  level 
of  a  dignified  pursuit  which  it  is  a  privilege  and  honor  to 
follow,  the  more  likely  are  the  learners  to  throw  themselves 
heartily  into  their  studies.  Children  never  have  such  a 
keen  sense  of  growing  power  as  when  they  are  trusted 
with  some  new  and  important  task.  Even  the  least  invit- 
ing kind  of  work  has  been  known  to  grow  not  only  pala- 
table but  actually  desirable  when  thus  invested  with  the 
semblance  of  responsibility  and  dignity.*  Children  should 
be  accustomed  to  look  on  each  new  stadium  of  study  as  a 
larger  privilege,  a  recognition  of  the  fact  that  they  have 
more  power  than  they  had,  and  a  step  onward  to  the  full 
fruition  of  manhood's  functions.^^ 

*  Mark  Twain  gives  a  delightfully  humorous,  but  at  the  same  time 
strikingly  true,  illustration  of  this  in  the  way  in  which  Tom  Sawyer 
made  the  other  boys  eager  to  relieve  him  of  the  work  of  whitewashing 
the  fence  by  pointing  out  that  a  body  does  not  "  get  a  chance  of  white- 
washing a  fence  every  day." 


THE  EMOTION  OF  RIVALRY,  315 

Finally,  children  should  be  led  so  far  as  possible  to 
realize  the  advantages  which  intellectual  development 
brings  with  it.  This  was  touched  on  in  connection  with 
the  training  of  the  memory.  The  growing  ability  to  con- 
verse with  others,  due  to  expanding  intelligence,  is  itself  no 
small  gain  to  a  child.  One  may  often  note  the  look  of 
pained  bewilderment  on  a  child's  face  who  overhears  his 
parents  discoursing  of  what  lies  too  high  for  his  young 
intellectual  wing.  Most  of  us  can  remember  as  one  of  the 
most  delightful  experiences  of  life  the  first  sense  of  "grow- 
ing up "  when  we  were  allowed  to  sit  up  in  the  evening 
and  listen  to  the  older  people's  book.  And,  in  so  far  as 
the  knowledge  acquired  at  school  is  felt  to  bring  the 
child  nearer  the  wider  and  mysterious  circle  of  adult 
ideas,  it  will  acquire  a  new  charm  by  gratifying  his  ambi- 
tion. And  for  a  similar  reason  every  discovery  of  the 
practical  utility  of  knowledge  will  serve  to  quicken  the 
desire  for  it. 

Feeling  of  Rivalry.— Closely  connected  with  the 
feeling  of  activity  is  the  emotion  of  rivalry.  This,  too, 
springs  out  of  conscious  activity.  It  is  the  feeling  which 
attends  the  putting  forth  of  exertion  in  competition  with 
another.  It  is  the  familiar  form  of  emotional  excitement 
which  accompanies  all  combat.  This  excitement  is  partly 
the  result  of  the  more  strenuous  activity  which  the  stimulus 
of  competition  evokes.  But  its  chief  ingredient  is  the  de- 
light in  combat,  in  proving  our  superiority  to  another  by 
defeating  him  in  some  exercise  of  strength  or  skill.  Its 
full  fruition  is  the  elation  of  victory. 

The  feeling  of  rivalry  is  one  of  the  earliest  to  be  devel- 
oped. It  has  its  roots  in  the  instinct  of  combat,  which 
we  see  clearly  illustrated  in  the  play  as  well  as  the  more 
serious  contests  of  children  and  young  animals,  Children 
are  much  under  the  sway  of  this  feeling.  Association  with 
other  children  gives  constant  opening  for  the  excitement 
of  contest.     And  many  a  child  that  if  left  to  itself  would 


3i6    THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 

be  comparatively  inactive  is  roused  to  strenuous  exertion 
by  this  stimulus. 

The  feeling  manifests  itself  in  a  variety  of  forms.  In 
some  of  these  its  anti-social  character  or  tendency  is  hardly 
observable,  whereas  in  other  forms  this  is  manifest.  Much 
of  children's  activity  has  an  element  of  competition  in  it, 
though  no  distinct  feeling  of  antagonism,  leave  alone  anger, 
is  developed.  This  remark  applies  to  many  things  they 
do  under  the  stimulus  of  example  and  leadership.  A  child 
that  tries  his  hand  at  doing  something  he  sees  another 
child  doing  is  concerned  rather  with  proving  his  own  abil- 
ity to  do  something  than  to  gain  a  victory  over  a  com- 
petitor. The  feeling  here  is  one  of  personal  ambition, 
with  the  impulse  of  rivalry  in  the  background.  The  same 
remark  applies  to  much  of  the  later  activity  of  life. 

The  feeling  becomes  more  distinct,  and  shows  its  anti- 
social character  better  in  those  situations  of  contest  proper 
where  mastery  is  directly  aimed  at.  In  the  case  of  bodily 
combat,  or  fighting  "  in  earnest,"  the  feeling  of  rivalry  is 
at  its  maximum  intensity,  being  sustained  and  inflamed  by 
angry  passion.  In  more  friendly  contests  of  physical 
strength  or  skill,  the  feeling  is  purer,  anger  being  absent. 
The  anti-social  tendency  of  the  feeling,  however,  is  plainly 
seen  in  the  fact  that  triumph  over  competitors  naturally 
leads  on  to  contemptuous  "  crowing,"  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  sting  of  defeat  often  secretes  within  it  the  germ 
of  hatred.  In  more  prolonged  contests,  as  those  of  the 
school,  we  commonly  observe  a  tendency  in  the  competi- 
tion to  foster  hostile  feelings  toward  the  rival.  In  this 
way  all  contests,  as  the  very  name  suggests,  approximate 
to  the  situation  of  hostility. 

The  educational  treatment  of  this  feeling  is  a  matter  of 
peculiar  difficulty.  It  is  so  strong  an  incentive  to  mental 
as  well  as  to  bodily  exertion,  and  is  so  directly  fostered 
by  the  circumstances  of  the  school,  that  the  teacher  can 
not  afford  to  do  without  it.     Nor  should  he  seek  to  do  so. 


DANGER  OF   THE  FEELING  OF  RIVALRY.   317 

The  impulse  is  one  of  the  most  deeply  implanted  and 
most  necessary.  It  lies  at  the  root  of  most  human  activity. 
The  teacher  is  accordingly  justified  in  appealing  to  it 
within  certain  limits. 

Being  an  anti-social  feeling,  rivalry  requires  the  educa- 
tor's careful  watching,  lest  it  grow  into  a  feeling  of  hos- 
tility and  lasting  antipathy.  This  applies  with  special 
force  to  the  school,  where  the  teaching  of  numbers  to- 
gether offers  a  wide  scope  for  this  feeling.  The  mode  of 
teaching  by  assigning  prizes  has  the  great  drawback  that 
it  tends  to  develop  the  impulse  of  rivalry  in  excess.  A 
boy  who  gets  into  the  way  of  looking  at  a  companion  as  a 
possibly-successful  claimant  for  the  prize  he  covets  is 
hardly  likely  to  entertain  very  kindly  feelings  toward  him. 
As  Miss  Edgeworth  reminds  us,  superior  knowledge  is 
dearly  acquired  at  the  price  of  a  malevolent  disposition.* 

Rivalry  is  a  feeling  to  be  kept  in  the  background. 
Children  should  be  encouraged  to  excel  rather  for  the 
sake  of  the  attainment  itself  than  for  that  of  taking  down 
another.  In  other  words,  the  scholar's  prevailing  motive 
should  be  worthy  ambition,  or  desire  to  get  on,  rather  than 
the  distinctly  anti-social  impulse  of  rivalry.  As  Rousseau 
and  others  have  pointed  out,  the  teacher  can  further  this 
result  by  his  mode  of  apportioning  praise,  grounding  his 
estimate  on  a  comparison  between  what  the  pupil  has  been 
and  what  he  is,  and  not  between  what  he  is  and  what 
somebody  else  is  not.  In  addition  to  this,  the  educator 
should  seek  to  counteract  the  tendency  to  the  indulgence 
of  hostile  sentiments  in  any  form  of  competition  by  devel- 
oping the  social  feelings,  and  more  particularly  sympathy 
with  the  sorrows  of  another.  In  this  way  the  heat  of  con- 
test will  be  tempered,  and  the  delight  for  triumph  dashed 
by  regret  at  the  humiliation  of  another  ;  the  selfish  feeling 
of  rivalry  will  pass  into  the  more  generous  sentiment  of 
emulation.^^ 

*  "  Practical  Education,"  chap,  x. 


3i8    THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL  FEELINGS, 

Love  of  Approbation  and  Self-Esteem.— We  pass 
now  to  another  and  very  different  type  of  feeling.  In 
what  is  known  as  the  love  of  approbation  we  seem  to 
have  to  do  with  a  feeling  of  high  moral  rank,  needing  to  be 
stimulated  rather  than  to  be  repressed,  like  the  feelings  of 
fear,  anger,  or  rivalry. 

The  love  of  approbation  is  a  special  form  of  the  more 
general  sentiment,  love  of  others'  good  opinion  and  of 
praise.  Its  essential  ingredient  is  the  gratification  which 
the  mind  receives  from  the  notice,  commendation,  and 
good  opinion  of  another.  This  feeling  is  instinctive.  A 
child  a  year  old  may  be  seen  going  to  its  mother  to  show 
her  something  he  has  done,  and  to  obtain  her  look  and 
words  of  commendation.  It  has  its  roots  in  the  same  pri- 
mal instinct  out  of  which  the  other  egoistic  feelings  spring, 
viz.,  the  impulse  of  self-conservation  and  self-assertion. 
Praise  is  the  sign  of  another's  recognition  of  our  impor- 
tance or  merit,  and  pleases  us  by  gratifying  our  instinctive 
tendency  to  attach  importance  to  ourselves.  It  is  thus 
closely  connected  with  the  feeling  of  self-complacency  and 
self-esteem.  The  instinctive  desire  for  others'  good  opin- 
ion has  probably  been  built  up,  or  at  least  strengthened, 
by  the  forces  of  heredity.  The  experiences  of  many  gener- 
ations of  the  material  advantages  flowing  from  others* 
recognition  and  good  opinion  would  tend  to  beget  an  in- 
herited liking  and  craving  for  notice  and  commendation. 
Each  child's  experience  tends,  moreover,  to  deepen  the 
instinctive  love  of  approbation  by  showing  how  much  his 
welfare  depends  on  his  winning  and  keeping  others'  favor- 
able opinion. 

The  disposition  to  look  to  others  for  commendation  is 
natural  and  appropriate  to  childhood.  Just  as  the  child  is 
physically  dependent,  so  he  is  intellectually  and  morally 
dependent.  In  early  life  children  can  not  form  independ- 
ent judgments  as  to  the  worth  of  their  actions.  Hence 
they  look  to  others  and  lean  on  their  estimates.     The  in- 


LOVE  OF  APPROBATION. 


319 


stinct  is  thus  of  special  use  in  early  life  by  helping  to 
quicken  ambition  at  a  time  when  the  incentive  of  self- 
satisfaction  is  relatively  feeble.  As  Locke  has  it,  reputa- 
tion is  the  proper  guide  and  encouragement  of  children 
till  they  grow  able  to  judge  for  themselves. 

The  desire  for  others'  good  opinion  is,  as  we  have  seen, 
distinctly  egoistic.  At  the  same  time  it  has  a  social  side 
as  well.  For,  in  desiring  to  stand  well  with  others,  the 
child  is  paying  these  a  certain  respect.  Moreover,  he  has 
to  attend  to  what  pleases  them  and  offends  them,  and  so 
is  put  in  the  way  of  reaching  a  much  higher  motive,  viz., 
the  desire  to  give  pleasure  to  others. 

This  double  aspect  of  the  feeling  reflects  itself  in  the 
unequal  dignity  of  its  several  forms.  A  strong  craving 
for  others'  consideration  and  praise,  without  any  reference 
to  the  value  of  the  praise,  is  one  of  the  most  disagreeable 
and  baneful  of  moral  traits.  It  makes  a  child  vain  of 
what  is  no  worthy  subject  of  pride,  as  his  good  looks, 
envious  of  those  who  win  more  than  himself,  and  over- 
bearing toward  those  who  are  less  fortunate.  In  its  least 
discriminating  and  more  vulgar  form,  thirst  for  popular 
applause  and  glory,  it  is  no  doubt  a  mighty  stimulus  to 
effort,  but  it  enfeebles  the  character  by  inducing  a  habit  of 
estimating  things  wholly  by  a  reference  to  what  others 
think  and  extol. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  discriminating  love  of  others' 
good  opinion,  a  strong  sense  of  the  value  of  certain  per- 
sons* approval,  is  bracing  and  elevating.  Where  the  de- 
sire for  esteem  is  directed  by  affection  and  admiration,  its 
influence  is  one  of  the  highest  of  educational  forces.  The 
habit  of  constantly  looking  for  the  "  Well  done  !  "  of 
mother  or  teacher  is  of  the  greatest  moral  value. 

In  appealing  to  this  motive,  the  educator  should  tem- 
per and  restrain  the  feeling,  and  keep  it  from  becoming  an 
unthinking  greediness  for  mere  applause  or  glory.  He 
should  enlighten  the  feeling  by  pointing  out  how  much 


320    THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 

more  valuable  some  persons'  commendation  is  than  oth- 
ers'. He  should  be  careful,  too,  in  apportioning  praise,  to 
avoid  occasion  for  envy.  Not  to  recognize  effort,  merit, 
where  such  is  supposed  to  exist,  is  one  of  the  greatest  of 
childish  sufferings.  And  to  see  another  praised  when  the 
child  thinks  itself  entitled  to  the  sweets  of  commenda- 
tion is  an  experience  prolific  of  bitter  and  hostile  feel- 
ings.^ 

Finally,  the  teacher  should  remember  that  the  end  of 
education  is  self-reliance  and  independence.  While  it 
is  well  for  a  child  to  go  by  what  others  say,  it  is  not  well 
for  a  youth  to  take  the  measure  of  his  own  worth  alto- 
gether from  others.  By  sifting  and  distinguishing  whose 
good  opinions  are  most  valuable,  a  child  should  be  gradu- 
ally forming  a  standard  for  independent  self-estimation. 
As  the  school-life  nears  its  close,  the  habit  of  looking  for 
the  teacher's  approval  should  give  place  to  the  habit  of 
self-scrutiny  and  self-judgment.  Self-esteem  and  self-sat- 
isfaction are  now  adequate  motives. 

Children  vary  much  in  respect  of  the  two  related 
feelings,  love  of  praise  and  self-esteem.  Some  are  much 
more  dependent  than  others  on  external  commendation. 
Each  extreme  is  bad,  and  should  be  guarded  against. 
Excessive  leaning  on  others'  estimates  leads,  as  we  have 
seen,  to  weakness  of  character.  It  leaves  no  room  for  a 
proper  self-respect  or  pride,  in  the  good  sense  of  this  term. 
On  the  other  hand,  nothing  is  more  unseemly  or  a  greater 
obstacle  to  intellectual  and  moral  development  than  an 
excessive  and  obstinate  self-conceit  in  the  face  of  others' 
opinion.  A  priggish  child,  that  has  been  indulged  in 
forming  exaggerated  estimates  of  his  importance  under 
the  baneful  influence  of  parental  "bringing  out,"  is  the 
most  unpromising  material  for  the  educator.  And  one  of 
the  most  valuable  functions  of  the  school  with  its  larger 
community  is  to  correct  such  home-bred  vanity  by  intro- 
ducing a  higher  and  less  partial  standard  of  reputation. 


THE  SENTIMENT  OF  ATTACHMENT, 


321 


and  making  the  child  feel  in  daily  collision  with  his  equals 
and  superiors  the  limits  of  his  attainments. 

Miss  Edgeworth,  in  her  excellent  chapter  on  vanity,  pride,  and  am- 
bition, uses  the  term  "  vanity  "  for  excessive  dependence  on  others'  good 
opinion,  "pride"  for  the  higher  forms  of  self-complacency  ("Practi- 
cal Education,"  chap.  xi).  These  distinctions,  however,  do  not  per- 
fectly coincide.  Vanity  is  sometimes  far  in  excess  of  others'  opinions, 
and  sometimes  approximates  to  a  solitary  and  illusory  persuasion  of 
worth.  Pride  is  the  higher  and  more  intelligent  feeling,  that  can  dis- 
criminate what  is  worthy  from  what  is  not,  and  on  this  account  can, 
when  necessary,  brave  the  common  and  valueless  opinions  of  the  multi- 
tudes. 

(B)  Social  Feelings:  Love  and  Respect.— We 

may  now  pass  to  the  group  of  emotions  known  as  the 
social  feelings.  By  these  are  meant  the  feelings  which 
have  others  as  their  proper  object,  and  which  tend  to  bind 
individuals  together  in  bonds  of  affection. 

The  feeling  of  love  or  attachment  to  a  person  is  a  com- 
plex emotion,  containing  egoistic  as  well  as  more  disinter- 
ested elements.  Take,  for  example,  a  child's  love  for  his 
mother.  At  first  it  is  little  more  than  a  reflection  of  the 
physical  satisfaction  and  comforts  that  he  associates  with 
her.  She  is  his  feeder  and  his  protector  ;  she  lavishes  ca- 
resses on  him,  many  of  which  are  pleasant  in  themselves, 
while  others  are  valuable  as  signs  of  a  beneficent  disposi- 
tion. The  early  love  of  a  child  is  thus  to  a  large  extent  a 
fully  developed  ''cupboard  love." 

A  higher  form  of  social  feeling  appears  in  what  we  call 
regard  or  esteem  for  others.  This  has  no  reference  to  the 
self,  and  rests  on  a  consideration  of  the  object  in  and  for 
itself.  True  regard  depends  on  a  perception  and  apprecia- 
tion of  good  and  valuable  qualities,  such  as  wisdom,  pru- 
dence, good-nature.  Children  are  greatly  impressed  by 
the  superior  knowledge  and  skill  of  their  parents  and 
teachers ;  but  the  recognition  of  this  is  more  apt  to  excite 
the  cold  feeling  of  awe  than  the  warm  emotion  of  regard. 


322    THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 

It  is  only  when  other  and  likable  qualities  from  a  child's 
point  of  view  combine  with  these,  as,  for  example,  kindly 
manners,  graceful  bearing,  and  so  forth,  that  tender  feel- 
ing is  excited.  The  love  of  a  child  for  his  parents  or  for 
his  teacher  is  compounded  of  a  grateful  response  for  per- 
sonal favors,  and  a  more  disinterested  element  of  admira- 
tion for  superior  excellence. 

Sympathy. — The  most  important  ingredient  in  the 
social  feelings  is  sympathy.  This  word  in  its  etymology 
((Tvv,  with,  and  Tra^os,  feeling)  means  fellow-feeling,  i.  e., 
a  participation  in  or  entering  into  the  sorrows  and  joys 
of  others.  It  forms  the  noblest  ingredient  in  true  affec- 
tion, for  love  is  tested  by  the  desire  to  please.  Where 
it  exists  it  transforms  egoistic  fondness  for  a  source  of 
happiness  to  ourselves,  and  mere  delight  in  what  is  agree- 
able to  have  near  us,  into  affectionate  concern  and  self- 
denying  devotion.  Sympathy  is  not,  however,  limited  by 
the  range  of  tender  emotion.  We  can  sympathize  with  the 
woes  of  those  for  whom  we  have  no  liking,  and  even  of 
perfect  strangers.  In  this  wider  and  more  detached  form 
sympathy  is  synonymous  with  good  feeling,  kindness,  and 
humanity. 

In  its  earliest  and  simplest  form  sympathy  is  a  mere 
tendency  to  reflect  the  feelings  which  the  child  sees  ex- 
pressed by  others.  This  tendency  is  clearly  connected 
with  the  impulse  of  imitation.  A  child  illustrates  this 
crude  form  of  sympathy  when  carried  away  by  the  hilar- 
ity of  a  company  of  children,  or  when  moved  to  the  ex- 
pression of  sadness  by  seeing  his  mother  dejected.  This 
involves  no  distinct  consciousness  of  another's  state  of 
mind,  but  is  a  species  of  automatic  imitation.  Children 
are  much  under  the  sway  of  this  emotional  contagion. 
The  spread  of  a  feeling  of  hilarity  or  of  indignation 
through  a  play-ground  illustrates  the  action  of  this  force. 

In  its  higher  and  fully  developed  form  sympathy  in- 
cludes a  distinct  idea  of  another's  sorrow  or  joy,  and  a 


INFLUENCE  OF  SYMPATHY. 


323 


responsive  or  participative  feeling.  A  child  that  fully 
sympathizes  with  his  mother  in  distress  suffers  in  company 
with  her.  This  conscious  participation  in  another's  suffer- 
ing has  as  its  active  result  a  desire  to  remove  the  pain, 
just  as  though  the  child  were  himself  overtaken  with  it. 
And  it  is  this  practical  identification  of  ourself  with  an- 
other which  makes  the  essence  of  all  that  we  mean  by 
kindness,  benevolence,  and  self-sacrifice  for  others. 

Sympathy  commonly  involves  a  certain  amount  of  pain 
to  the  sympathizer.  When  we  sympathize  with  another's 
distress  we  take  that  distress  upon  ourselves.  Even  when 
we  enter  into  another's  joy  there  is  often  a  painful  effort 
to  suppress  the  promptings  of  envy.*  But  sympathy, 
when  accompanied  by  a  flow  t)f  tender  emotion,  becomes 
in  a  measure  pleasurable.  There  is  a  certain  delight  in 
pitying  others,  as  is  evident  from  the  part  which  commis- 
eration plays  in  the  drama  and  works  of  fiction.  Children 
often  prefer  "  very  sad  "  stories  to  any  others. 

It  is,  however,  to  its  recipient  that  sympathy  is  most 
distinctly  pleasurable.  He  has  his  pains  assuaged  and  his 
pleasures  intensified  by  another's  fellow-feeling.  Hence, 
the  desire  for  sympathy  often  exists  in  a  perfectly  selfish 
mind  which  is  quite  incapable  of  requiting  it.  In  children 
the  longing  for  sympathy  is  often  in  the  inverse  ratio  of 
the  ability  to  bestow  it  on  others. 

Sympathy  seems  to  strengthen  and  fix  a  feeling  in  the 
mind  of  the  recipient.  A  child  that  feels  itself  aggrieved 
has  this  feeling  confirmed  by  the  sympathizing  words  of 
another.  It  acts  like  a  reflector,  bending  back,  and  so 
intensifying  the  rays  of  emotion.  Our  habitual  feelings, 
our  likings,  tastes,  antipathies,  are  greatly  re-enforced  by 
the  sympathy  of  congenial  minds.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  desire  to  be  in  sympathy  with  others  acts  as  a  powerful 

*  As  Jean  Paul  Richter  obsei-ves,  "in  order  to  feel  with  another's 
pain,  it  is  enough  to  be  a  man  ;  to  feel  with  another's  pleasure,  it  is 
needful  to  be  an  angel." 
22 


324 


THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 


assimilative  force.  In  the  case  of  friends  thrown  much 
together,  sympathy  is  apt  to  produce  a  community  of  feel- 
ings and  ideas. 

Conditions  of  Sympathy. — To  sympathize  with  an- 
other is  by  no  means  a  natural  and  instinctive  operation. 
It  involves  a  difficult  process,  viz.,  an  observation  of  the 
external  expression  of  another's  feeling,  and  an  interpreta- 
tion of  these  outer  signs.  For  the  due  carrying  out  of 
this  process  certain  conditions  are  necessary  :  {a)  To  begin 
with,  there  must  be  a  disposition  to  observe  and  look  out 
for  the  signs  of  others'  feelings.  A  sympathetic  mind  is 
closely  observant  of  others.  Observation  is  habitually 
swayed  and  directed  by  a  special  interest  in  others. 
{b)  Again,  we  can  not  sympathize  unless  we  ourselves  have 
felt,  and  can  recall  our  experience.  To  enter  into  an- 
other's sorrow  presupposes  that  we  understand  the  expres- 
sion of  it,  and  this  involves  the  recalling  of  our  own  sor- 
rows, (c)  To  this  memory  of  personal  happiness  and 
unhappiness  must  be  united  a  sympathetic  imagination, 
a  readiness  to  feel  ourselves  in  the  place  of  another,  and 
realize  situations  and  feelings  differing  in  some  respects 
from  anything  that  we  have  ourselves  experienced. 

From  this  bare  enumeration  of  the  chief  conditions  of 
sympathy  we  can  understand  how  it  is  that  the  young  are 
commonly  so  deficient  in  it.  They  want  the  human  inter- 
est that  would  prompt  them  to  observe  others  closely,  and 
they  are  without  the  emotional  experience  necessary  to 
the  construing  of  the  outer  signs  of  feeling.  Much  of  the 
sorrow  and  the  joy  of  adult  life  is  a  sealed  book  to  the 
child.  Moreover,  sympathy  is  excluded,  or  at  least  greatly 
narrowed,  at  first  by  the  preponderance  of  selfish  interests 
and  occupations,  and  by  the  anti-social  feelings.  The 
promptings  of  antipathy,  triumph,  social  prejudice,  restrict 
the  outgoings  of  pity,  while  envy  keeps  back  the  impulse 
to  rejoice  in  the  joy  of  others. 

The  germ  of  social  feeling  shows  itself  early  in  life. 


SYMPATHY  ENLARGED  BY  CULTURE.     325 

A  child  less  than  two  months  will  smile  at  his  nurse,  a 
fact  that  suggests  an  instinctive  sociability.  Imitative  re- 
flection of  an  expressed  feeling,  e.  g.,  by  depressing  cor- 
ners of  mouth  when  nurse  begins  to  cry  (Darwin),  may 
be  detected  by  the  beginning"  of  the  eighth  month.  A 
deeper  and  more  intelligent  sympathy  shows  itself  in  the 
second  year,  as  pity  called  forth  by  simple  forms  of  dis- 
tress, such  as  hunger,  cold,  etc.,  which  are  easily  intelligi- 
ble to  the  child.  Among  the  first  recipients  of  this  early 
childish  sympathy  are  its  pet  animals.  It  is  easy  for  a 
child  to  enter  into  the  experiences  of  physical  want  and 
satisfaction  which  make  up  animal  life.  Hence,  in  part, 
the  charm  of  animal  stories  for  the  young.*  Among 
human  beings  those  who  are  bound  to  the  child  by  the 
ties  of  love  and  daily  companionship  naturally  come  in  for 
the  first  sympathy.  Fellow-feeling  for  outsiders  is  a  much 
later  development.  The  circle  of  sympathy  gradually  ex- 
pands from  the  home  as  its  center.  The  range  of  sympa- 
thy is  bounded  by  the  child's  store  of  knowledge  and  the 
power  of  his  imagination.  Hence,  culture  enlarges  the 
area  of  sympathy,  while  reciprocally  the  human  interest 
which  springs  out  of  sympathy  is  one  great  motive  to  a 
study  of  human  life  and  experience  as  unfolded  in  biogra- 
phy, history,  etc. 

Uses  of  Sympathy. — The  force  of  sympathy  is 
rightly  looked  on  as  one  of  the  most  valuable  agencies  in 
education.  It  is  needed  both  as  an  aid  to  intellectual  de- 
velopment, and  still  more  as  a  means  of  moral  growth. 

As  a  stimulus  to  study,  sympathy  is  a  strong  incentive. 
Here  the  first  thing  is  to  establish  a  relation  of  sympathy 
between  the  teacher  and  the  pupils.  In  this  the  teacher 
must  take  the  lead  by  showing  sympathy  with  the  child. 

*  I  have  known  a  child  of  twenty-one  months  burst  into  tears  at 
the  sight  of  a  dead  dog  taken  out  of  a  pond.  On  the  nature  of  sympa- 
thy with  animals,  see  M.  Perez,  "  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p. 
75,  and  following. 


326    THE  EGOISTIC  AND  SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 

He  can  enter  into  the  child's  experiences,  but  he  can  not 
as  yet  expect  the  child  to  understand  his  feelings.  This 
calling  forth  of  affection  by  showing  affection  is  difficult, 
for  children  have  not  the  intelligence  needed  to  appreciate 
how  much  is  done  for  them  by  those  who  have  charge  of 
them,  and  are  disposed  to  look  at  the  restraints  of  disci- 
pline as  so  much  unkindness.  As  Miss  Edgeworth  re- 
marks, "  gratitude  is  one  of  the  most  certain,  but  one  of 
the  latest,  rewards  which  preceptors  and  parents  should 
expect  from  their  pupils."  And  it  is  evident  that  the 
teacher  has  fewer  resources  at  his  command  than  the  par- 
ent for  winning  the  warm  affection  of  the  child.  Still, 
much  may  be  done.  The  child  has  his  hardships  at  school. 
Study  is  not  always  a  delight,  especially  at  the  outset. 
Here  is  the  teacher's  opportunity.  The  closer  he  comes 
to  the  learner,  in  kindly  appreciation  of  his  special  diffi- 
culties, the  more  he  will  call  forth  childish  gratitude.  The 
severity  of  the  tutor  and  the  disciplinarian  may  well  be 
mitigated  on  occasion  by  active  participation  in  childish 
pursuits. 

In  these  ways,  by  proving  himself  the  child's  friend,  the 
teacher  may  in  time  win  a  responsive  sympathy  and  a 
habit  of  consideration  from  the  learner.  The  securing  of 
this  sympathy  of  the  child  is  of  the  first  consequence  to 
success  in  teaching.  The  wish  to  please  is  one  of  the 
most  valuable  spurs  to  intellectual  industry.  A  child  that 
has  real  affection  for  his  teacher  will,  partly  by  uncon- 
scious absorption  or  imitation,  partly  by  an  active  desire 
to  understand  and  participate  in  the  feelings  of  one  whom 
he  loves,  gradually  catch  something  of  his  spirit,  and  be 
affected  by  his  enthusiasm.  I  have  known  boys  taking 
eagerly  to  studies  that  were  rather  distasteful  than  attract- 
ive under  the  influence  of  a  strong  affection  for  their 
tutor. 

Hardly  inferior  to  this  influence  of  sympathy  between 
teacher  and  learner  is  that  of  a  sympathy   between  the 


SYMPATHY  AN  AID  IN  EDUCATION. 


327 


learners  themselves.  A  child  brought  into  a  class  which 
exhibits  a  lively  interest  in  learning  will,  by  the  force  of 
contagion,  be  infected  by  something  of  the  prevailing  tone 
of  feeling.  Bright,  eager  class-mates  are  a  potent  stimu- 
lus to  the  individual  child.  This  is  one  important  in- 
gredient in  the  influence  of  numbers  in  education.  Where 
the  relations  between  the  learners  grows  closer,  and  affec- 
tion is  called  forth,  a  new  and  valuable  force  working  in 
the  direction  of  intellectual  industry  is  supplied.  Many 
a  young  intelligence  has  brightened  under  the  genial  in- 
fluence of  sympathetic  contact  with  a  more  developed  and 
stronger  mind. 

While  sympathy  is  thus  valuable  as  an  aid  to  intellect- 
ual training,  it  is  a  still  more  vital  element  in  moral  train- 
ing. Love  for  the  parent  or  teacher  provides  the  strong- 
est safeguard  against  wrong-doing.  To  an  affectionate 
child  the  wounding  of  the  heart  of  one  whom  he  loves  is 
intense  suffering.  The  influence  of  a  high  moral  charac- 
ter acts  through  the  desire  for  sympathy.  The  child  imi- 
tates and  tries  to  be  like  the  person  he  loves  and  reveres 
because  he  wants  to  be  in  unison  with  him.  In  addition 
to  this,  as  we  shall  see  presently,  sympathy  with  others 
generally  forms  an  important  element  in  a  good  moral  dis- 
position. To  draw  out  the  sympathies  of  the  young,  and 
so  to  bring  under  the  selfish  and  anti-social  feelings,  is  a 
chief  part  of  moral  education. 

The  work  of  educating  the  sympathies  calls  for  special 
care.  The  home  offers  a  wider  scope  than  the  school  for 
the  full  manifestation  of  sympathy  in  active  kindness  and 
mutual  help.  The  parent  should  guard  against  a  habit  of 
indulging  human  feeling  with  no  proportionate  readiness 
to  work  for  the  relief  of  suffering.  Hence  the  feeling  of 
pity  should  not  be  wholly  or  chiefly  called  forth  at  first  by 
touching  stories,  but  rather  by  actual  instances  of  suffering 
which  offer  scope  for  benevolent  exertion.  It  is  only  too 
easy  to  stimulate  the  externals  of  kind  feeling  without  a 


328      THE  EGOISTIC  AND   SOCIAL  FEELINGS. 

genuine  spirit  of  benevolence,  and  the  educator  should 
rather  repress  than  encourage  what  may  be  called  theatri- 
cal tears  in  young  children. 

The  sympathetic  feelings,  and  the  sentiment  of  human- 
ity which  is  their  highest  product,  should  be  cultivated  in 
connection  with  those  studies  which  have  to  do  with  hu- 
man life  and  its  products,  and  more  especially  history  and 
literature.  The  clear  understanding  and  just  apprecia- 
tion of  the  ideas,  aims,  and  motives  both  of  individuals 
and  of  communities  necessitates  a  certain  exercise  of  the 
sympathetic  imagination.  Hence  the  study  of  human 
actions  as  unfolded  in  the  page  of  history,  and  of  the 
thoughts  and  sentiments  of  the  greatest  minds,  as  con- 
served in  literature,  supplies  a  means  of  developing  the 
sympathies.  Here  the  aim  of  the  educator  should  be  to 
widen  the  range  of  his  pupil's  sympathies,  and  to  develop 
in  him  a  deeper  and  more  delicate  insight  into  the  com- 
mon yet  infinitely  varied  experiences  and  feelings  of  man- 
kind. 

APPENDIX. 

On  the  egoistic  and  the  social  feelings  of  childhood,  see  Perez,  "  The 
First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  chap,  iii  ;  on  their  educational  bear- 
ings, consult  Bain,  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap,  iii  ;  on  the  special 
cultivation  of  sympathy,  see  Miss  Edgeworth,  "  Practical  Education," 
chap.  X  ;  Mdme.  Necker,  '*  L'Education,"  livre  v,  chap,  iv  ;  and  Dittes, 
**  Grundriss,"  g  66  and  following. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE    HIGHER    SENTIMENTS. 

In  the  present  chapter  we  shall  be  concerned  with  the 
third  and  highest  order  of  emotion,  the  abstract  senti- 
ments. The  full  development  of  these  belongs  to  the 
period  of  adolescence  and  maturity ;  but  the  germs  appear 
in  early  life,  and  it  is  an  important  part  of  education  to 
develop  and  strengthen  them. 

The  Intellectual  Sentiment. — The  first  of  these 
sentiments  is  one  with  which  the  educator  is  specially 
concerned  in  connection  with  intellectual  culture,  viz.,  the 
intellectual  sentiment.  This  includes  various  feelings  that 
grow  up  about  and  attach  themselves  to  the  pursuit  and 
attainment  of  knowledge  of  different  kinds.  They  are 
commonly  spoken  of  as  the  pleasures  of  knowledge,  and 
when  developed  into  the  permanent  form  of  an  affection 
they  constitute  the  love  of  truth.  In  their  relation  to  the 
will  as  a  stimulus  or  incentive  to  action  they  are  known 
as  curiosity  or  the  desire  for  knowledge. 

Feeling  of  Ignorance  and  Wonder. — It  is  com- 
monly said  that  the  desire  for  knowledge  begins  with  a 
sense  of  ignorance  or  a  feeling  of  perplexity  in  face  of  the 
unknown.  This  in  itself  is  a  painful  feeling.  A  child 
that  becomes  aware,  e.  g.,  by  overhearing  the  talk  (>{ 
others,  that  there  are  things  he  knows  nothing  or  little  of 
is,  for  the  moment,  rendered  uncomfortable  and  discon- 
tented. 


330 


THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 


In  a  somewhat  different  way  this  feeling  of  dissatis- 
faction arises  in  presence  of  things  that  are  new,  strange, 
and  puzzling.  Take,  for  example,  the  first  sight  of  a  rain- 
bow. The  child  is  first  struck  by  the  novelty  and  beauty 
of  the  phenomenon.  This  constitutes  a  mode  of  pleasur- 
able excitement  which  we  call  wonder.  The  child's  mind 
may  stop  here,  contenting  itself  with  the  exhilarating  ef- 
fect of  the  marvelous.  This  is  what  happens  with  emo- 
tional children  and  adults  in  whom  the  love  of  the  marvel- 
ous is  strong.  Hence  the  feeling  of  wonder  in  its  more 
violent  and  intoxicating  form  is  cpposed  to  the  desire  to 
know  and  to  scientific  curiosity.  When,  however,  the 
feeling  of  wonder  does  not  thus  master  and  intoxicate  the 
mind,  the  very  strangeness  of  the  phenomenon  stimulates 
the  mind  to  inquiry.  Thus  the  child  asks  what  the  rain- 
bow is,  and  how  it  came  there.  That  is  to  say,  out  of  a 
feeling  of  surprise  and  wonder  is  developed  an  impulse  of 
curiosity. 

Pleasure  of  Gaining  Knowledge.— While  the  love 
of  knowledge  thus  takes  its  rise  in  a  painful  feeling — the 
sense  of  ignorance  or  of  perplexity — it  is  greatly  reinforced 
by  the  pleasurable  feelings  which  accompany  the  attain- 
ment of  knowledge.  As  was  pointed  out  above,  all  intel- 
lectual exertion,  provided  it  is  not  carried  to  the  point  of 
fatigue,  is  pleasurable.  Each  kind  of  intellectual  activity 
is  accompanied  by  its  proper  satisfaction.  Thus  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  observing  powers  brings  with  it  the  enjoy- 
ment of  sense-activity,  e.  g.,  the  pleasures  of  color  and  of 
movement.  The  exercise  of  each  of  the  two  great  intel- 
lectual functions,  discrimination  and  assimilation,  is  at- 
tended with  a  peculiar  satisfaction.  There  is  a  gratifica- 
tion in  contrasting  objects,  and  in  noting  the  finer  shades 
of  difference  among  things.  On  the  other  hand,  the  con- 
necting of  unlike  things  by  some  bond  of  affinity  supplies 
another  and  still  more  vivid  form  of  gratification.  There 
is  the  exhilaration  of  surprise  and  novelty,  and  a  peculiarly 


THE  PLEASURE  OF  DISCOVERY. 


331 


agreeable  sense  of  intellectual  movement  and  command 
in  assimilating  and  so  unifying  things  hitherto  regarded  as 
unlike  and  disconnected.  Children  often  betray  their 
susceptibility  to  this  feeling  in  the  look  of  wondering  de- 
light which  accompanies  the  discovery  of  some  real  or 
fanciful  resemblance  among  objects,* 

The  full  enjoyment  of  intellectual  activity  is  known  in 
those  more  prolonged  operations  where  the  mind  is  busily 
searching  for  some  new  fact  or  truth.  The  passive  recep- 
tion of  a  new  piece  of  knowledge,  even  when  the  pains  of 
ignorance  or  of  perplexity  have  preceded,  gives  but  little 
delight  compared  with  the  active  discovery  of  it  for  one's 
self.  A  boy  who  works  out  unaided  a  problem  in  geome- 
try has  an  amount  of  satisfaction  wholly  incommensurable 
with  that  of  the  boy  who  has  the  solution  at  once  supplied 
him.  In  this  case  the  full  activity  of  the  mind  is  awak- 
ened, trains  of  ideas  pass  rapidly  through  the  mind,  and 
there  is  the  glow  of  intellectual  excitement.  In  addition 
to  this  there  is  the  pleasure  of  pursuing  an  end,  the  delight 
of  intellectual  chase.  A  moderate  amount  of  difficulty 
and  delay  only  stimulates  the  intellectual  powers  to  a 
higher  tension,  and  so  adds  to  the  zest.  At  the  end  there 
is  the  joyous  feeling  of  successful  attainment,  of  difficulties 
overcome,  and  of  triumph. 

Finally,  as  pointed  out  above,  the  mastery  and  posses- 
sion of  knowledge  is  accompanied  by  a  pleasurable  con- 
sciousness of  expansion  and  growth.  The  mind  of  the 
learner  feels  itself  enriched  by  a  new  possession.  And  the 
new  attainment  is  felt  to  be  a  source  of  personal  strength. 
It  has  lessened  for  the  inquirer  the  region  of  the  unknown 
and  obscure,  and  adds  to  his  self-confidence  in  confront- 
ing the  world.  In  many  cases,  too,  the  new  possession 
gives  the  mind  a  firmer  hold  on  previous  acquisitions. 
Thus  the  discovery  of  a  new  general  truth  throws  light  on 

*  The  delight  which  the  mind  thus  experiences  in  discovering  new 
identities  is  seen  plainly  in  the  charm  of  poetical  simile. 


332 


THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 


facts  which  were  once  obscure,  and  serves  to  bind  many 
detached  fragments  of  knowledge  by  one  uniting  princi- 
ple. And  as  a  last  result,  the  new  acquisition  gives  the 
learner  the  pleasurable  sense  of  increased  practical  effi- 
ciency. The  ultimate  function  of  all  knowledge  is  to 
guide  action,  and  the  heightened  sense  of  power  which 
attends  increase  of  knowledge  includes  a  certain  imagin- 
ative realization  of  its  many  practical  applications.*^ 

Children's  Curiosity.— The  delight  in  learning  and 
extending  the  range  of  knowledge  which  we  have  just 
analyzed  is  the  result  of  a  long  process  of  growth.  To 
love  truth  for  its  own  sake,  and  to  be  willing  to  take  pains 
to  pursue  it  in  whatsoever  direction  it  invites  to  pursuit, 
is  a  rare  attainment  even  among  adults.  Nevertheless 
children  betray  most  distinctly  the  germs  of  these  feelings. 

The  very  situation  of  children  among  their  new  sur- 
roundings renders  them  highly  susceptible  to  the  effects 
of  wonder  and  curiosity.*^  The  objects  and  processes  of 
their  environment  are  new  to  them  and  attract  their  at- 
tention. They  have  not  yet  formed  habits  of  indifference 
to  what  is  customary  ;  nor  has  the  narrowing  business  of 
life  circumscribed  their  intellectual  interest  in  things. 
Hence,  the  fact,  familiar  to  every  parent,  that  children 
put  so  many  odd,  out-of-the-way  questions  on  matters 
that  seem  to  have  no  connection  with  their  personal  in- 
terests. 

Much  of  this  wondering  curiosity  is  no  doubt  fleeting 
and  fugitive  enough.  The  feeling  of  ignorance  is  not  fully 
excited,  and  the  desire  to  know  is  not  sustained  by  a 
definite  and  sufficient  interest  in  the  particular  subject. 
Hence  the  further  experience  of  parents  that  the  young 
questioner  often  tires  of  his  subject  before  the  answer  is 
given,  and  wanders  off  to  fresh  fields  of  inquiry. 

A  real  feeling  of  inquisitiveness,  sufficient  to  sustain  a 
prolonged  act  of  attention,  must  be  supported  by  some 
special  fund  of  interest.     As  already  pointed  out,  intel- 


INTELLECTUAL  FEELING.  333 

lectual  interest  naturally  takes  its  rise  out  of  other  kinds 
(personal,  practical,  aesthetic).  The  personal  experiences 
and  predominant  feelings  and  tastes  of  the  child  deter- 
mine the  directions  of  curiosity  and  of  the  wish  to  learn 
about  things.  The  child  has  little  or  no  love  of  knowledge 
in  the  abstract ;  but  he  has  the  germ  of  a  number  of  loves 
corresponding  with  different  departments  or  directions  of 
knowledge.  Thus,  as  Madame  Necker  observes,  his  de- 
light in  pretty  objects,  especially  flowers,  shells,  and  birds, 
forms  a  natural  basis  for  curiosity  as  to  the  facts  of  natural 
history.  Again,  the  love  of  the  marvelous,  the  impulses 
of  adventure,  and  the  germs  of  social  feeUng  and  sympathy 
constitute  a  natural  support  for  an  intellectual  interest  in 
human  action,  and  in  history.* 

Growth  of  Intellectual  Feeling. — In  this  way  the 
child's  curiosity  and  appreciation  of  knowledge  tend  from 
the  first  to  crystallize  in  definite  forms,  which  we  call  his 
special  intellectual  interests.  The  direction  of  these  is 
fixed  partly  by  natural  tastes,  and  partly  by  the  special 
circumstances  of  his  life.  What  is  seen  every  day,  and  is 
connected  closely  with  the  home  experience,  naturally 
supplies  the  nucleus  for  a  permanent  intellectual  interest. 
Thus  the  son  of  a  farmer  naturally  grows  inquisitive  about 
horses,  crops,  and  so  forth.  Much,  too,  is  due  to  the  in- 
fluence of  example  and  of  unconscious  sympathy.  The 
departments  of  knowledge  on  whicl^  the  father  or  the 
teacher  sets  value  tend  to  become  those  of  most  interest 
to  the  child. 

The  growth  of  intellectual  feeling  may  be  measured  in 
two  directions  :  (a)  the  deepening  of  interest  in  certain 
definite  directions,  e.  g.,  natural  science,  language  ;  and 
(^)  the  widening  of  interests,  and  the  development  of  a 
general  impartial  curiosity  in  things.     These  two  direc- 

*  On  the  nature  of  childish  curiosity  see  M.  Perez,  "  First  Three 
Years  of  Childhood,"  chap,  vi,  sect,  i  ;  Bain,  "  Education  as  a  Sci- 
ence," p.  90,  etc. 


334 


THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 


tions  of  development  are  in  a  measure  distinct  and  even 
opposed.  Absorption  in  special  lines  of  inquiry  is  fatal 
to  a  general  spirit  of  inquisitiveness. 

In  seeking  to  develop  the  intellectual  feelings  and  in- 
terests the  educator  must  follow  the  order  of  nature.  It 
is  vain  to  look  for  a  keen  and  dominant  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge at  first ;  for  such  a  feeling,  except  in  the  case  of  a 
few  highly  gifted  children,  is  a  slow  product.  The  young 
are  unable  to  realize  all  the  pleasure  of  intellectual  activ- 
ity, and  they  can  not  at  first  appreciate  its  great  practical 
utility.  Hence,  adventitious  aids  must  be  resorted  to  ; 
and  here  the  principle  of  association  should  be  made  use 
of,  and  a  certain  liking  for  intellectual  pursuits  produced 
by  making  all  its  accompaniments  as  agreeable  as  possible. 
A  pleasant  voice  and  manner  in  a  teacher  may  do  much 
to  recommend  an  indifferent  subject  to  the  notice  of  his 
pupils. 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  possible  to  depend  too  much  on 
extraneous  and  associated  interest.  Our  modern  system 
of  school  competition,  with  its  machinery  of  examinations, 
published  lists,  and  so  forth,  is  apt  to  suggest  to  the  learner 
that  the  value  of  learning  is  altogether  relative  and  de- 
pendent. 

The  educator  should  from  the  first  aim  at  exciting  a 
love  of  knowledge  for  its  own  sake  and  a  desire  to  attain 
truth.  This  end  ijiay  be  secured  to  some  extent  by  the 
influence  of  example  and  sympathy.  A  teacher  that  mani- 
fests a  genuine  and  a  keen  interest  in  the  subjects  he 
teaches  will  as  a  rule  have  interested  pupils.  In  addition 
to  this  the  educator  must  make  the  most  of  children's 
spontaneous  impulses  of  curiosity,  watching  their  direc- 
tions, and  so  learning  how  best  to  fix  interest  and  inquiry 
in  definite  channels.  As  supplementary  to  this,  the  edu- 
cator should  try  to  retain  something  of  that  wide  detached 
curiosity  of  the  first  years  of  life,  and  foster  a  disposition 
to  examine  and  inquire  about  things  generally. 


JESTHETIC  PLEASURES.  335 

The  iEsthetic  Sentiment.— The  second  of  the 
three  sentiments  to  be  now  considered  is  known  as  the 
aesthetic  emotion,  and  also  as  the  pleasures  of  beauty  or 
taste.  These  include  a  variety  of  pleasurable  feelings, 
namely,  those  answering  to  what  is  pretty,  graceful,  har- 
monious, or  sublime  in  natural  objects  or  in  works  of  art. 
To  these  pleasures  there  correspond  the  disagreeable  feel- 
ings excited  by  what  is  ugly,  discordant,  and  so  forth. 

These  pleasures  are  the  accompaniments  of  impres- 
sions made  on  the  mind  by  external  objects  through  one 
of  the  two  higher  senses,  sight  and  hearing,  and  more  par- 
ticularly sight.  The  pleasure  arises  immediately  from  the 
perception  or  recognition  of  some  agreeable  feature  or 
quality  in  the  object,  as  the  brilliance  of  a  color,  the  purity 
of  a  tone,  the  symmetry  of  a  temple. 

The  aesthetic  enjoyments  rank  high  among  our  pleas- 
ures. They  contrast  with  the  lower  pleasures  of  sense 
and  appetite  in  their  refinement  or  purity.  They  consti- 
tute a  surplus,  so  to  speak,  over  the  daily  satisfaction  which 
we  experience  in  connection  with  the  necessary  work  of 
life.  The  delight  in  what  is  beautiful  owes  nothing  to  any 
feeling  of  the  usefulness  of  the  object.  The  cultivation 
and  gratification  of  the  aesthetic  feelings  is  thus  closely 
analogous  to  play,  activity  engaged  in  for  its  own  sake. 
And  lastly,  the  pleasures  we  experience  in  observing  the 
beautiful  aspects  of  nature  or  works  of  art  are  eminently 
a  socializing  gratification.  Numbers  may  together  enjoy 
a  beautiful  picture  or  a  piece  of  music,  and  the  pleasure 
be  greatly  increased  by  interchanges  of  sympathy.* 

Elements  of  .Esthetic  Pleasure. — The  pleasure 
which  arises  from  the  contemplation  of  a  beautiful  object, 
whether  in  nature  or  in  art,  is  of  various  kinds  and  of 
different  degrees  of  dignity,  according  to  the  rank  of  the 

*  The  child  testifies  to  this  social  character  of  the  feeling  in  its  in- 
stinctive impulse  to  call  its  mother's  attention  to  what  is  pretty.  See 
Perez,  "  The  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p.  271. 


336  THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 

mental  faculty  specially  concerned.  (i)  The  simplest 
mode  of  such  pleasure  is  the  sensuous  enjoyment  which 
arises  out  of  a  perfect  stimulation  of  the  sense-organ  con- 
cerned. The  pleasure  of  brilliant  light  and  of  color,  of 
graceful  curve,  and  of  pure  musical  tone,  illustrates  this 
sensuous  element.  (2)  A  higher  grade  of  aesthetic  grati- 
fication is  connected  with  a  conscious  mental  activity  in 
discovering  pleasing  relations  among  these  sensuous  ma- 
terials, and  more  particularly  the  combination  of  a  variety 
of  pleasing  details  in  a  worthy  whole.  This  involves  the 
exercise  of  perceptive  faculty.  This  element  of  aesthetic 
pleasure  is  realized  in  the  appreciation  of  relations  of  con- 
trast and  harmony  among  colors,  of  beauties  of  space- 
form,  or  form  as  it  presents  itself  to  the  eye,  including 
symmetry  and  proportion  ;  of  beauties  of  time-form,  or 
the  pleasing  grouping  of  sounds  in  succession,  including 
rhythm,  meter,  together  with  those  arrangements  of  musi- 
cal tone  which  we  call  tune  or  melody.  (3)  Besides  these 
presentative  elements  in  the  enjoyment  of  beauty  we  have 
representative  elements.  These  include  the  pleasures  of 
suggestion  and  of  imagination.  Much  of  the  charm  of 
natural  things,  as  the  flower  by  the  wayside,  the  bubbling 
sound  of  a  stream,  the  fragment  of  ruined  castle,  depends 
on  association  with  what  is  pleasing,  touching,  or  sublime. 

Finally,  the  enjoyment  of  a  work  of  art  depends  to  a 
considerable  extent  on  the  appreciation  of  its  fidelity  to 
truth  and  life.  The  imitative  arts,  more  particularly 
painting,  dramatic  spectacle,  and  poetry,  aim  at  present- 
ing some  aspect  of  nature  or  human  life  by  the  medium 
of  artistic  semblance,  and  the  resulting  enjoyment  arises 
in  part  from  a  recognition  of  its  verisimilitude.  Here 
aesthetic  pleasure  connects  itself  with  the  properly  intel- 
lectual gratification  of  apprehending  truth. 

^Esthetic  Judgment :  Taste. — We  commonly  speak 
indifferently  of  a  feeling  for  what  is  beautiful,  or  of  a  per- 
ception or  recognition  of  beauty.     And   this  shows  that 


ESTHETIC  DEVELOPMENT.  337 

the  element  of  feeling  is  here  closely  connected  with  an 
intellectual  process.  The  first  appreciation  is  largely 
emotional.  That  is,  we  say  a  thing  is  beautiful  because 
the  contemplation  of  it  affects  us  agreeably.  This  may  be 
called  an  automatic  or  unconscious  aesthetic  judgment. 
A  conscious  or  intelligent  judgment  includes  more  than 
this,  namely,  a  process  of  comparison  of  object  with  ob- 
ject, and  a  recognition  of  certain  aspects  of  these,  such  as 
purity  of  color  or  elegance  of  form,  as  the  specific  source 
of  the  enjoyment. 

Standard  of  Taste.— The  sphere  of  taste  is  pro- 
verbially uncertain.  Individuals  and  communities  differ 
widely  in  their  aesthetic  preferences.  Yet  amid  these  va- 
riations certain  uniformities  and  laws  of  taste  are  dis- 
coverable. Such  principles  supply  a  standard  of  taste 
by  help  of  which  the  individual  may  regulate  his  decis- 
ions and  judge  correctly.  The  standard  is  built  up  first 
of  all  by  observing  what  the  best  judges  of  all  times  have 
approved,  and  supplementing  this  by  reflection  on  the  true 
nature  of  beauty  and  art. 

We  may  say  that  taste  is  wrong  when  it  approves  any- 
thing that  the  normal  nature  of  man  condemns,  such  as  a 
distinctly  discordant  arrangement  of  sounds  or  colors. 
From  mere  rightness  or  soundness  of  taste  we  have  to  dis- 
tinguish refinement  or  discriminative  delicacy.  This  an- 
swers to  the  degree  of  culture  of  the  faculty  attained.  A 
child's  simple  aesthetic  preferences  may  be  right,  or  in 
good  taste,  though  from  an  adult's  point  of  view  they  are 
lacking  in  refinement  or  discrimination. 

Growth  of  iEsthetic  Faculty. — The  feeling  for 
beauty  in  its  higher  and  more  refined  form  is  a  late  attain- 
ment, and  presupposes  an  advanced  stage  of  intellectual 
and  emotional  culture.  At  the  beginning  of  life  there  is 
no  clear  3eparation  of  what  is  beautiful  from  what  is  sim- 
ply pleasing  to  the  individual.  As  in  the  history  of  the 
race,  so   in  that  of  the   individual,  the    sense  of  beauty 


338  THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 

slowly  extricates  itself  from  pleasurable  consciousness  in 
general,  and  differentiates  itself  from  the  sense  of  what  is 
personally  useful  and  agreeable.* 

The  order  of  development  of  the  aesthetic  feeling  an- 
swers in  its  main  outline  to  the  threefold  grade  of  enjoy- 
ment indicated  above.  The  infant's  first  crude  experience 
of  the  delight  of  beauty  is  supplied  by  some  new  and  rav- 
ishing sense-impression,  as  the  dance  of  the  sunlight  on 
the  wall,  the  brilliant  coloring  of  a  tulip,  the  sweet  sound 
of  a  bird's  song,  and  so  on.  The  intellectual  apprecia- 
tion of  form  (sym.-netry  and  proportion)  presupposes  the 
development  of  the  powers  of  observing  and  comparing, 
and  so  comes  later.  Children  feel  at  first  the  charm  of 
this  and  that  detail  in  isolation,  but  have  no  power  of 
grasping  the  relations  of  a  number  of  parts  in  a  beautiful 
whole. t  And  lastly,  the  enjoyment  of  the  suggestions 
and  ideal  significance  of  things  is  only  possible  when  ex- 
periences have  multiplied,  and  the  representative  powers 
have  grown  in  strength.  The  child  does  not  feel  the 
pathos  of  the  ruined  castle  or  the  sublimity  of  the  mount- 
ain peak,  because  experience  and  thought  have  not  yet 
invested  the  objects  with  numerous  and  rich  associations. 

While  we  may  thus  roughly  mark  off  the  sensuous  as 
the  first  stage,  and  so  on,  we  must  remember  that  each 
side  of  the  aesthetic  faculty  advances  concurrently.  There 
is  a  gradual  transition  from  crude  and  coarse  to  refined 
pleasure,  from  simple  to  complex  enjoyment,  under  each 
head.  Thus  the  young  child  takes  pleasure  at  first  only 
in  the  more  striking  and  vivid  sensuous  effects  of  light 
and  sound.     Then,  as  his  discriminative  sensibility  devel- 

*  See  M.  Perez,  "  The  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p.  270,  and 
following.  % 

f  Hence,  as  Madame  Necker  observes  ("  L'Education  Progressive," 
ii,  158),  a  child  has  no  sense  of  the  total  picturesque  charm  of  a  land- 
scape. The  sense  of  time-form,  or  rhythm,  is,  however,  very  early 
developed.     See  Perez,  ibid.,  p.  42. 


GROWTH  OF  ESTHETIC  FACULTY.        339 

ops,  he  begins  to  detect  more  unobtrusive  charms,  as  the 
quiet  beauty  of  subdued  coloring,  and  the  worth  of  pure 
color,  and  so  forth.  Similarly,  his  appreciation  of  juxta- 
positions of  colors  and  sounds,  and  of  relations  of  form, 
both  in  space  and  time,  grows  in  refinement.  Finally,  as 
his  experience  widens  and  his  knowledge  increases,  the 
meanings  and  suggestions  of  things  grow  in  richness.  A 
flower  acquires  a  deeper  charm  as  the  mind  comes  to  un- 
derstand its  delicate  structure  and  its  short,  fragile  life, 
and  as  it  becomes  invested  with  a  myriad  happy  associa- 
tions of  early  life,  and  with  a  moral  and  religious  signifi- 
cance. 

While  the  aesthetic  faculty  thus  develops  on  the  passive 
or  appreciative  side,  it  asserts  itself  as  an  active  or  creative 
im.pulse  as  well.  This  impulse,  which  has  a  triple  root  in 
the  love  of  activity,  of  imitating  nature,  and  of  expressing 
or  embodying  forth  some  internal  idea,  is  among  the  old- 
est instincts  of  the  race,  and  betrays  itself  very  early  in 
the  life  of  the  individual.  Children  show  even  in  their 
first  year  a  germ  of  artistic  creativeness.  They  enter  into 
the  spirit  of  playful  acting ;  *  they  exhibit  an  impulse  to 
fashion  or  arrange  things  with  their  tiny  hands.  Children's 
play  is,  as  already  observed,  a  naive,  unconscious  sort  of 
art-production.  As  their  taste  and  their  powers  of  exe- 
cution progress,  they  derive  a  greater  enjoyment  from  the 
production  of  such  artistic  effects.  And  on  the  other 
hand,  the  exercise  of  these  creative  impulses  tends  very 
materially  to  strengthen  and  widen  the  interest  in  con- 
templating art-products  generally. 

Again,  as  the  child's  aesthetic  experience,  or  his  famil- 
iarity with  what  is  beautiful  in  nature  and  art,  deepens 
and  widens,  his  faculty  of  judgment  will  grow  more  firm 

*  Mr.  Darwin  observes  that  his  boy,  when  about  thirteen  months 
old,  showed  "  a  touch  of  the  dramatic  art "  by  pretending  to  be  angry 
and  slapping  his  father  for  the  sake  of  the  agreeable  denodmenty  a  kiss. 
See  "  Mind,"  vol.  ii  (1877),  p.  2gi. 
23 


340 


THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 


and  competent.  From  the  first  the  child  is  building  up 
more  or  less  consciously,  a  standard  of  aesthetic  reference. 
This  will  be  in  part  the  outcome  of  his  individual  tastes 
and  preferences,  for  every  child  tends  to  impose  these  as 
a  law  on  others  ;  but  in  the  main  it  will  reflect  the  external 
authority  under  which  he  lives,  that  is,  the  artistic  models 
in  the  shape  of  pictures,  dress,  etc.,  by  which  he  has  been 
habitually  surrounded,  and  the  current  maxims  of  his  par- 
ents, teachers,  etc.  But  as  his  tastes  develop,  his  range 
of  artistic  experience  and  knowledge  widens,  and  his  pow- 
ers of  individual  reflection  gain  in  strength,  he  will  grad- 
ually improve  on  this  first  temporary  standard,  and,  by 
gaining  a  deeper  insight  into  the  real  and  universally  rec- 
ognized grounds  of  aesthetic  and  artistic  worth,  grow  in 
clearness  and  precision  of  judgment. 

The  Education  of  Taste.— As  already  pointed  out, 
the  education  of  the  feelings  culminates  in  the  development 
of  taste.  Esthetic  culture  owes  its  educational  import- 
ance to  the  fact  that  by  refining  the  feelings,  detaching 
them  from  personal  concerns,  and  connecting  them  with 
objects  of  common  perception,  it  greatly  widens  and  ele- 
vates the  child's  sources  of  happiness.* 

The  development  of  taste  implies  certain  external  con- 
ditions. Among  these,  education  plays  an  important  part. 
The  social  surroundings  exert,  in  early  life  at  least,  a  po- 
tent influence.  As  already  pointed  out,  the  child  takes 
its  cue  as  to  what  is  pretty  from  what  it  sees  about  it  and 
hears  others  approve.  Hence,  by  controlling  the  artistic 
environment  and  by  direct  teaching,  much  may  be  done 
by  the  educator  to  mold  the  growing  taste  of  the  young. 

To  begin  with,  since  the  aesthetic  faculty,  like  the  other 
faculties,  grows  by  exercise  on  suitable  material,  it  is  im- 
portant to  surround  the  child  from  the  first  with  what  is 

*  On  the  effect  of  testhetic  training  in  moderating  and  purifying 
the  feelings,  and  so  preparing  the  way  for  wtJra/ education,  see  Dittes, 
"  Erziehungs-  und  Unterrichtslehre,"  t^  56. 


THE  EDUCATION  OF    TASTE.  341 

pretty,  attractive,  and  tasteful.  In  developing  the  taste, 
as  the  other  faculties,  we  must  remember  that  it  is  first 
impressions  which  produce  the  most  lasting  effect.  In 
early  life  the,  foundations  of  a  love  of  natural  scenery 
should  be  laid  by  steeping  the  young  mind  as  far  as  possi- 
ble in  the  impressions  of  nature,  the  colors  of  earth,  water, 
and  sky,  and  the  manifold  pleasing  sounds  of  stream,  wood, 
and  living  creatures.  It  is  only  by  such  early  companion- 
ship with  Nature  that  the  most  valuable  aesthetic  associa- 
tions can  be  built  up.* 

In  the  second  place,  much  may  be  done  by  the  mother 
or  other  educator  by  way  of  directing  the  child's  attention 
to  what  is  beautiful  in  his  natural  surroundings,  pointing 
out  those  aspects  of  objects  which  are  fitted  to  please  the 
eye  and  mind,  and  so  calling  the  aesthetic  faculty  into  ex- 
ercise.*^ The  training  of  the  sensuous  side  of  the  faculty 
is  in  itself  a  considerable  work.  We  all  tend  to  overlook 
the  exact  character  of  sense-impressions,  the  finer  details 
of  light  and  shade,  color,  and  line  in  objects,  owing  to  the 
superior  interest  of  their  suggestions,  namely,  the  objects 
themselves,  and  their  uses,  etc.  A  child  looking  at  a  tree- 
trunk  overgrown  with  moss,  or  an  old  wall  tinted  with 
lichens  and  flowers,  is  apt  to  pass  by  these  unobtrusive 
details,  and  to  wonder  how  high  the  tree  or  wall  is,  and 
whether  he  could  climb  it.  In  order  to  see  exactly  what 
is  present  to  the  eye,  a  special  interest  in  sense-impres- 
sions, and  a  habit  of  close  attention  is  necessary,  and 
hence  the  educator  of  the  aesthetic  faculty  should  seek  to 
develop  that  finer  and  rarer  sort  of  observing  power  which 
finds  nothing  too  common  or  insignificant.  The  educator 
may  do  much,  too,  in  directing  the  child's  attention  to  the 
beautiful  forms  of  objects,  to  the  noble  symmetry  of  the 

*  On  the  evils  accruing  to  children  in  our  large  towns  from  the  love 
of  country  suiTOundings,  and  the  possibility  of  alleviating  these,  see  an 
eloquent  paper  by  Archdeacon  Farrar  on  "Art  in  Schools,"  published 
in  the  "Journal  of  Education,"  December,  1884. 


342  THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 

mountain,  the  varying  curve  of  the  river's  course,  the  se 
vere  regularities  of  the  crystal,  and  the  graceful  propor- 
tions of  living  forms.  Nor  should  he  fail,  by  exercising 
the  child's  imaginative  and  reflective  faculties,  as  well  as 
by  direct  instruction,  to  bring  out  those  rich  and  poetical 
suggestions  in  things  which  make  up  so  much  of  their  aes- 
thetic value. 

While  the  child's  faculty  of  taste  is  thus  being  devel- 
oped in  the  contemplation  of  nature's  beauty,  it  should  bo 
further  educated  by  habitual  contact  with  good  art.  And 
here  the  arrangements  of  the  home,  the  dress,  and  so 
forth,  should  be  such  as  to  awaken  the  first  sense  of  what 
is  graceful  and  harmonious.  The  influence  of  a  refined 
mother,  who  studies  what  is  pleasing  and  harmonious  in 
the  home  and  her  own  appearance  and  manner,  may  be 
all-important  in  exciting  a  nascent  feeling  for  beauty,  and 
giving  the  first  direction  to  the  child's  standard  of  taste. 
More  than  this,  the  child  should  from  the  first  be  educated 
in  the  appreciation  of  the  fine  arts.  The  picture-books  of 
the  nursery  should  be  artistic,  so  that  from  the  first  the 
child's  mind  may  be  familiarized  with  and  accustomed  to 
what  is  life-like  and  graceful  in  art.  The  cultivation  of  a 
taste  for  music  and  for  poetry  presupposes  a  special  train- 
ing by  help  of  the  best  productions  of  these  arts. 

This  artistic  training,  to  be  complete,  should  call  forth 
the  productive  impulses  of  the  child.  And  this  in  part 
because  all  artistic  skill  is  a  source  of  pure  and  elevating 
enjoyment  both  to  the  producer  himself  and  to  others  ; 
and  in  part  because  a  certain  degree  of  familiarity  with 
the  elementary  processes  of  artistic  production  is  neces- 
sary to  a  deep  appreciation  of  what  is  beautiful.'*^ 

In  training  the  aesthetic  faculty  great  care  is  needed 
lest  we  hurry  the  process  of  natural  and  normal  growth. 
Children  who  have  a  too  refined  standard  of  beauty  set 
before  them  are  apt  to  affect  a  taste  for  what  they  do  not 
reallv  care  about.     We  should  be  careful  not  to  force  our 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF   TASTE. 


343 


higher  standard  of  what  is  beautiful  on  children.  They 
should  not  only  be  allowed  but  even  encouraged  to  relish 
the  simple  aesthetic  enjoyments  proper  to  their  age,  as  the 
charm  of  brilliant  colors,  and  forcible  contrasts  of  color, 
of  simple  symmetrical  patterns,  and  so  on.  Great  care 
must  be  taken  not  to  overrefine  their  taste,  to  deaden  the 
healthy  instinctive  feelings,  and  so  unduly  narrow  the 
region  of  enjoyment.*^ 

With  respect  to  the  exercise  of  the  aesthetic  judgment, 
children  should  be  encouraged  to  be  natural,  and  to  pro- 
nounce opinion  for  themselves.  The  teacher  should  never 
forget  the  great  individual  differences  of  sensibility  and 
taste,  and  should  allow  a  legitimate  scope  to  independent 
reflection  and  judgment.  Taste  is  the  region  which  most 
safely  admits  of  freedom  of  opinion,  and  constitutes,  there- 
fore, in  early  life  the  best  field  for  the  exercise  of  individ- 
ual judgment.  On  the  other  hand,  the  child  should  not 
be  allowed  to  become  overconfident  and  opinionated,  and 
intolerant  of  others'  sentiments,  but  by  instruction  in  the 
diversities  of  taste  led  to  entertain  his  individual  prefer- 
ences with  a  becoming  modesty. 

The  cultivation  of  the  aesthetic  sentiment  may  enter 
into  almost  every  department  of  education.  On  one  side 
it  stands  in  close  connection  with  intellectual  training. 
The  feeling  for  what  is  graceful  or  elegant  may  be  devel- 
oped to  some  extent  in  connection  with  such  seemingly 
prosaic  exercises  as  learning  to  read  and  to  write  ;  and  by 
this  means  a  certain  artistic  interest  may  be  infused  into 
the  occupation.  The  teaching  of  the  use  of  the  mother- 
tongue  in  vocal  recitation  and  written  composition  offers 
a  wider  field  for  the  exercise  of  the  aesthetic  sense  in  a 
growing  feeling  for  rhetorical  effect  and  for  literary  style. 
Many  branches  of  study  tend  to  develop  the  aesthetic  feel- 
ings, and  owe  much  of  their  interest  to  this  circumstance. 
This  is  pre-eminently  true  of  classical  studies  and  of  liter- 
ature generally,  which,  as  already  pointed  out,  specially 


344  THE  HIGHER   SENTIMENTS, 

exercise  the  imagination  on  its  aesthetic  side.  Physical 
geography  may  be  so  taught  as  to  elicit  a  feeling  for  the 
picturesque  and  the  sublime  in  natural  scenery,  and  his- 
tory, so  as  to  call  forth  a  feeling  of  sympathetic  appreci- 
ation for  the  picturesque  lights  and  shadows  of  human 
life  and  experience,  and  admiration  for  what  is  great  and 
noble  in  human  conduct  and  character.  Everi  the  more 
abstract  studies,  as  geometry  and  physical  science,  may  be 
made  a  means  of  evoking  and  strengthening  a  feeling  for 
what  is  beautiful,  not  only  in  material  objects  (e.  g.,  regu- 
larity and  symmetry  in  geometric  figures,  beauties  of  form 
and  color  in  minerals,  plants,  and  animals),  but  in  ideas, 
and  their  logical  relations. 

On  another  side,  the  training  of  the  aesthetic  sense 
comes  into  contact  with  moral  training.  To  adopt  and 
practice,  in  mode  of  dress,  in  speech,  and  generally  in 
manners,  what  is  agreeable  to  the  aesthetic  feelings  of 
others,  is  a  matter  of  so  much  social  importance  that  it 
is  rightly  looked  on  as  one  of  the  lesser  moral  obligations. 
Hence  the  stress  laid  in  the  early  period  of  training  on  the 
cultivation  of  naturalness  and  fitness  in  carriage,  move- 
ment, and  speech,  on  neatness  in  dress,  etc.,  and  on  the 
graces  of  courtesy.*^ 

It  is  to  be  observed  finally,  that  in  training  the  aes- 
thetic faculty  a  natural  order  is  to  be  followed,  answering 
to  the  development  of  faculty.  Thus  it  is  evident  that 
tune  singing,  or  singing  in  unison,  must  precede  part  sing- 
ing, which  presupposes  the  development  of  a  sense  of 
musical  harmony.  Similarly,  a  certain  training  in  the  use 
of  colors  may  appropriately  precede  exercises  in  draw- 
ing. 

Ethical  or  Moral  Sentiment. — We  now  come  to 
the  last  of  the  three  sentiments,  that  known  as  the  ethical 
or  moral  sentiment.  This  feeling  is  commonly  spoken  of 
under  a  variety  of  names,  such  as  the  feeling  of  moral 
obligation  or  the  sentiment  of  duty,  the  feeling  of  rever- 


THE  ETHICAL   SENTIMENT.  345 

ence  for  the  moral  law,  the  sentiment  of  moral  approba- 
tion and  disapprobation,  the  love  of  virtue. 

The  moral  sentiment  has  for  its  proper  object  human 
actions,  and  the  motives  and  character  which  underlie 
these.  It  is  called  forth  by  a  perception  of,  and  reflection 
upon,  actions  which  we  commonly  distinguish  as  good  and 
bad,  and  more  narrowly  as  right  and  wrong.  These  ac- 
tions may  be  our  own  or  those  of  another.  We  approve 
what  is  right  in  ourselves  and  in  others.  Right  action 
may  be  provisionally  defined  as  that  which  conforms  to 
the  moral  law. 

The  essential  ingredient  in  the  moral  sentiment  is  a 
feeling  of  obligation  or  of  "  oughtness."  In  approving 
an  action  as  right  we  feel  that  it  binds  us,  that  we  are  not 
free  to  do  or  not  to  do  it,  as  in  the  case  of  indifferent 
actions.  We  acknowledge  our  allegiance  to  an  authority 
outside  of  us. 

The  moral  sentiment  is  in  a  pre-eminent  sense  a  social 
feeling.  The  sentiment  of  duty  is  bound  up  with  the 
individual's  social  relations.  The  child's  first  conscious- 
ness of  obligation  is  the  recognition  of  others'  authority 
over  him  ;  and  the  highest  form  of  moral  sentiment  is 
based  on  the  sympathetic  realization  of  others'  interests 
and  claims,  and  the  recognition  of  the  supremacy  of  the 
common  good  over  the  interests  of  the  individual. 

This  feeling  assumes  one  of  two  unlike  forms,  as  the 
action  approved  or  disapproved  is  our  own  or  another's. 
In  the  former  case  we  have  the  pleasing  consciousness  of 
fulfilling  the  obligation  that  binds  us,  or  the  painful  sense 
of  violating  it.  In  its  fully  developed  phase  of  con- 
science, feeling  of  remorse,  etc.,  this  sentiment  involves  a 
cleaf  reflection  on  self,  its  capabilities  and  responsibilities. 
In  the  latter  case  the  feeling  has  no  direct  reference  to 
self.  In  condemning  another's  act  as  wrong,  we  are  not 
realizing  our  own  subjection  to  the  moral  law,  but  rather 
asserting  its  authority  over  another. 


346  THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 

While  the  feeling  of  moral  disapproval  and  approval  is 
one  and  the  same  throughout  in  its  essential  ingredient, 
it  assumes  a  variety  of  phases  according  to  the  particular 
nature  of  the  action  which  is  its  object,  and  the  special 
associations  and  feelings  it  calls  up.  Thus  in  the  feeling 
with  which  we  condemn  a  lie  there  is  a  distinctly  intel- 
lectual ingredient,  a  painful  shock  of  contradiction  ;  in 
the  sentiment  with  which  we  denounce  a  piece  of  wanton 
cruelty  there  is  an  ingredient  of  anger  ;  and  so  on. 

Lastly,  there  is  the  important  difference  between  the 
bare  approval  of  what  is  a  duty,  and  the  warmer  feeling  of 
commendation  or  praise  which  we  experience  when  con- 
templating a  virtuous  act,  that  is,  one  which  clearly  ex- 
ceeds the  limits  of  duty.  This  feeling  has  an  aesthetic 
element  in  it,  viz.,  admiration  of  what  is  rare  and  lofty. 
In  the  case  of  our  own  actions  this  difference  shows  itself 
as  the  contrast  between  a  bare  self-satisfaction  and  a  feel- 
ing of  personal  merit  and  desert. 

These  different  forms  of  the  moral  sentiment  may  co- 
exist in  very  unequal  strength  in  the  same  individual.  A 
boy  may  have  a  fairly  keen  abhorrence  of  cruelty,  and  yet 
be  wanting  in  a  feeling  for  truth  or  veracity.  These  indi- 
vidual differences  point  to  the  diversity  in  the  nature 
of  these  feelings,  and  also  to  the  fact  that  the  directions 
of  the  moral  feeling  and  the  objects  or  ideas  it  attaches 
itself  to  are  largely  fixed  by  external  influences  and  by 
education. 

Moral  Feeling  and  Moral  Judg-ment.— Here,  as 
ifl  the  case  of  the  aesthetic  faculty,  the  emotional  element 
is  bound  up  with  a  properly  intellectual  process.  Con- 
science includes  not  only  a  susceptibility  to  feeling  of  a 
certain  kind,  but  a  power  or  faculty  of  recognizing  the 
presence  of  certain  qualities  in  actions  (rightness,  justness, 
etc.),  or  of  judging  an  act  to  have  a  certain  moral  char- 
acter. Some  amount  of  intellectual  discrimination  must, 
of  course,  accompany  and  precede  every  moral  feeling. 


MORAL   STANDARDS.  347 

We  can  not  feel  moral  repugnance  at  an  act  of  meanness 
or  cruelty  except  when  we  discern  to  some  extent  the 
character  of  the  action.  In  some  cases,  however,  the 
judgment  is  very  vague.  Thus  we  may  have  a  strong 
feeling  of  the  injustice  of  an  action,  and  yet  be  quite  un- 
able to  say  wherein  exactly  the  injustice  lies.  In  con- 
trast to  this  blind  form  of  moral  judgment  there  is  the 
intelligent  one,  in  which  feeling  is  controlled  by  reflection. 
The  full  exercise  of  the  moral  faculty  includes  the  co- 
operation of  feeling  or  sentiment  and  the  intellectual 
faculty  of  judgment. 

The  Moral  Standard. — Men's  judgments  as  to 
what  is  right  and  wrong  are  not  perfectly  uniform.  We 
find  different  standards  set  up  in  different  communities, 
and  in  the  same  community  at  different  times.  Lying, 
suicide,  etc.,  are  differently  estimated  by  different  nations, 
and  the  same  differences  show  themselves  in  smaller  com- 
munities. In  one  school  current  ideas  and  feelings  about 
what  is  mean,  dishonorable,  and  so  on,  may  vary  consid- 
erably from  those  reigning  in  another  school.  Wherever 
a  community  forms  itself,  we  see  a  tendency  to  the  adop- 
tion of  a  special  local  standard  of  what  is  right  and  praise- 
worthy. 

These  narrov/  standards  have  to  be  corrected  by  com- 
parison of  one  system  with  another.  By  finding  out  what 
is  common  to  them,  and  by  reflecting  on  the  highest  and 
best  interests  of  man,  the  moralist  aims  at  constructing  an 
ideally  perfect  statement  of  the  moral  law  which  is  to 
serve  as  a  universal  and  final  standard  of  right  and  wrong. 

Growth  of  the  Moral  Sentiment. — It  has  been 
long  disputed  whether  the  moral  faculty  is  innate  and  in- 
stinctive, or  whether  it  is  the  result  of  experience  and 
education.  The  probability  is  that  it  is  partly  the  one, 
and  partly  the  other.  The  child  shows  from  an  early 
period  a  disposition  to  submit  to  others'  authority,  and 
this  moral  instinct  may  not  improbably  be  the  transmitted 


348  THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 

result  of  the  social  experience  and  moral  training  of  many 
generations  of  ancestors.  Yet,  whatever  the  strength  of 
the  innate  disposition,  it  is  indisputable  that  external  in- 
fluences and  education  have  much  to  do  in  determining 
the  intensity  and  the  special  form  of  the  moral  sentiment. 
We  have  now  to  trace  the  successive  phases  of  its  devel- 
opment. 

A  consciousness  of  moral  obligation  arises  in  the  first 
instance  by  help  of  the  common  childish  experience  of 
living  under  parental  authority  at  the  outset.  The  child's 
repugnance  to  doing  what  is  wrong  is  mainly  the  egoistic 
feeling  of  dislike  to  or  fear  of  punishment.  By  the  effect 
of  the  principle  of  association  or  "transference,"  dislike  to 
the  consequences  of  certain  actions  might  lead  on  to  a 
certain  measure  of  dislike  to  the  actions  themselves. 
And  such  an  effort  would  greatly  strengthen  the  innate 
disposition  to  submit  to  authority. 

When  the  forces  of  affection  and  sympathy  come  into 
play,  this  crude  germ  of  moral  feeling  would  advance  a 
stage.  An  affectionate  child,  finding  that  disobedience 
and  wrong-doing  offend  and  distress  his  mother  or  father, 
would  shrink  from  these  actions  on  this  ground.  Not 
only  so,  the  promptings  of  sympathy  would  lead  the  child 
to  set  a  value  on  what  those  whom  he  loves  and  esteems 
hold  in  reverence.  In  this  way  love  and  reverence  for  the 
father  lead  on  naturally  to  love  and  reverence  for  the 
moral  law  which  he  represents,  enforces,  and  in  a  measure 
embodies. 

Even  now,  however,  the  love  of  right  has  not  become 
a  feeling  for  the  inherent  quality  of  moral  rightness :  it  is 
still  a  blind  respect  for  what  is  enjoined  by  certain  per- 
sons who  are  respected  and  beloved.  In  order  that  the 
blind  sympathetic  regard  may  pass  into  an  intelligent  ap- 
preciation, another  kind  of  experience  is  necessary. 

Thrown  with  others  from  the  first,  a  child  soon  finds 
that   he   is   affected   in   various   ways   by   their    actions. 


MORAL   CULTIVATION. 


349 


Thus  another  child  takes  a  toy  from  him  or  strikes  him, 
and  he  suffers,  and  experiences  a  feeling  of  anger,  and 
an  impulse  to  retaliate.  Or,  on  the  contrary,  another 
child  is  generous  and  shares  his  toys,  etc.,  with  him,  and 
so  his  happiness  is  augmented,  and  he  is  disposed  to  be 
grateful.  In  such  ways  the  child  gradually  gains  experi- 
ence of  the  effect  of  others'  good  and  bad  actions  on  his 
own  welfare.  By  so  doing  his  apprehension  of  the  mean- 
ing of  moral  distinctions  is  rendered  clearer.  "  Right  " 
and  "  wrong  "  acquire  a  certain  significance  in  relation  to 
his  individual  well-being.  He  is  now  no  longer  merely 
in  the  position  of  an  unintelligent  subject  to  a  command  : 
he  becomes  to  some  extent  an  intelligent  approver  of 
that  command,  helping  to  enforce  it,  by  pronouncing  the 
doer  of  the  selfish  act  ''  naughty,"  and  of  the  kind  action 
"good."*^ 

Further  experience  and  reflection  on  this  would  teach 
the  child  the  reciprocity  and  interdependence  of  right 
conduct ;  that  the  honesty,  fairness,  and  kindness  of  others 
toward  himself  are  conditional  on  his  acting  similarly 
toward  them.  In  this  way  he  would  be  led  to  attach  a 
new  importance  to  his  own  performance  of  certain  right 
actions.  He  feels  impelled  to  do  what  is  right,  e.  g.,  speak 
the  truth,  not  simply  because  he  wants  to  avoid  his  par- 
ents' condemnation,  but  because  he  begins  to  recognize 
that  network  of  reciprocal  dependence  which  binds  each 
individual  member  of  a  community  to  his  fellows. 

Even  now,  however,  our  young  moral  learner  has  not 
attained  to  a  genuine  and  pure  repugnance  to  wrong  as 
such.  In  order  that  he  may  feel  this,  the  higher  sympa- 
thetic feelings  must  be  further  developed. 

To  illustrate  the  influence  of  such  a  higher  sympathy, 
let  us  suppose  that  A  suffers  from  B's  angry  outbursts 
or  his  greedy  propensities.  He  finds  that  C  and  D  also 
suffer  in  much  the  same  way.  If  his  sympathetic  im- 
pulses are  sufficiently  keen  he  will  be  able,  by  help  of  his 


350  THE  HIGHER   SENTIMENTS. 

own  similar  sufferings,  to  put  himself  in  the  place  of  the 
injured  one,  and  to  resent  his  injury  just  as  though  it 
were  done  to  himself.  At  the  beginning  he  will  feel  only 
for  those  near  him,  and  the  objects  of  special  affection,  as 
his  mother  or  his  sister.  Hence  the  moral  importance  of 
family  relations  and  their  warm  personal  affections,  as 
serving  first  to  develop  habitual  sympathy  with  others 
and  consideration  for  their  interests  and  claims.  As  his 
sympathies  expand,  however,  this  indignation  against 
wrong-doing  will  take  a  wider  sweep,  and  embrace  a 
larger  and  larger  circle  of  his  fellows.  In  this  way  he 
comes  to  exercise  a  higher  moral  function  as  a  disinter- 
ested spectator  of  others'  conduct,  and  an  impartial  repre- 
sentative and  supporter  of  the  moral  law. 

Development  of  Self-judging  Conscience.— The 
highest  outcome  of  this  habit  of  sympathetic  indignation 
against  wrong  is  a  disinterested  repugnance  to  wrong 
when  done  by  the  individual  himself.  A  child  injures  an- 
other in  some  way,  either  in  momentary  anger  or  through 
thoughtlessness.  As  soon  as  he  is  able  to  reflect,  his 
habit  of  sympathy  asserts  itself,  and  causes  him  to  suffer 
with  the  injured  one.  He  puts  himself  at  the  point  of 
view  of  the  child  he  has  wronged,  and  from  that  point  of 
view  looks  back  on  himself,  the  doer  of  the  wrong,  with  a 
new  feeling  of  self-condemnation.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  he  fulfills  his  duty  to  another  or  renders  him  a  kind- 
ness, he  gains  a  genuine  satisfaction  by  imaginatively  real- 
izing the  feelings  of  the  recipient  of  the  service,  and  so 
looking  back  on  his  action  with  complacency  and  ap- 
proval. 

When  this  stage  of  moral  progress  is  reached,  the  child 
will  identify  himself  with  the  moral  law  in  a  new  and 
closer  way.  He  will  no  longer  do  right  merely  because 
an  external  authority  commands,  or  because  he  sees  it  to 
some  extent  to  be  his  interest  to  do  so.  The  develop- 
ment of  the  unselfish  feelings  has  now  connected  an  in- 


TRAINING    THE  MORAL  FEELINGS.        351 

ternal  pain,  the  pang  of  self-condemnation  and  of  re- 
morse, with  the  consciousness  of  acting  wrongly  ;  and  this 
pain,  being  immediate  and  certain,  acts  as  a  constant  and 
never-failing  sanction. 

The  higher  developments  of  the  moral  sentiment  in- 
volve not  only  a  deepening  and  quickening  of  the  feelings, 
but  a  considerable  enlightenment  of  the  intelligence.  In 
order  to  detect  the  subtler  distinctions  between  right  and 
wrong,  delicate  intellectual  processes  have  to  be  carried 
out.  Rapidity  and  certainty  of  moral  insight  are  the  late 
result  of  wide  experience,  and  a  long  and  systematic  exer- 
cise of  the  moral  faculty  on  its  emotional  and  intellectual 
side  alike. 

The  Training  of  the  Moral  Faculty.— Sir ce  the 
moral  feeling  stands  in  a  peculiarly  close  relation  to  the 
will,  the  practical  problem  of  exercising  and  developing  it 
is  intimately  connected  with  the  education  of  the  will  and 
the  formation  of  the  moral  character.  This  larger  problem 
we  have  not  yet  reached,  but  we  may  even  at  this  stage 
inquire  into  the  best  means  of  developing  the  moral  senti- 
ment regarded  apart  from  its  influence  as  a  motive  to 
action,  and  merely  as  an  emotional  and  intellectual  prod- 
uct. 

Inasmuch  as  the  government  of  the  parent  and  the 
teacher  is  the  external  agency  that  first  acts  upon  the  germ 
of  the  moral  sentiment,  it  is  evident  that  the  work  of 
training  the  moral  feelings  and  judgment  forms  a  con- 
spicuous feature  in  the  plan  of  early  education.  The 
nature  of  the  home  discipline  more  particularly  is  a  prime 
factor  in  determining  the  first  movements  of  growth  of  the 
childish  sense  of  duty.  In  order  that  any  system  of  dis- 
cipline may  have  a  beneficial  moral  influence  and  tend  in 
the  direction  of  moral  growth,  it  must  satisfy  the  require- 
ments of  a  good  and  efiicient  system.  What  these  are  is  a 
point  which  will  be  considered  later  on.  Here  it  must 
suffice  to  say  that  rules  must  be  laid  down  absolutely,  and 


352  THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 

enforced  uniformly  and  consistently,  yet  with  a  careful 
consideration  of  circumstances  and  individual  differences. 
Only  in  this  way  will  the  child  come  to  view  the  com- 
mands and  prohibitions  of  his  parent  or  his  teacher  as 
representing  and  expressing  a  permanent  and  unalterable 
moral  law,  which  is  perfctly  impartial  in  its  approvals  and 
disapprovals. 

The  effect  of  any  system  of  discipline  in  educating  and 
strengthening  the  moral  feelings  and  judgment  will  de- 
pend on  the  spirit  and  temper  in  which  it  is  enforced. 
On  the  one  hand,  a  measure  of  calm  becomes  the  judicial 
function,  and  a  parent  or  teacher  carried  away  by  violent 
feeling  is  unfit  for  moral  control.  Hence  everything  like 
petty  personal  feeling,  as  vindictiveness,  triumph,  and  so 
forth,  should  be  rigorously  excluded. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  moral  educator  must  not,  in 
administering  discipline,  appear  as  a  cold  impersonal  ab- 
straction. He  must  represent  the  august  and  rigorously 
impartial  moral  law,  but  in  representing  it  he  must  prove 
himself  a  living  personality  capable  of  being  deeply  pained 
at  the  sight  of  wrong-doing.  By  so  doing  he  may  foster 
the  love  of  right  by  enlisting  on  his  side  the  child's 
warmer  feelings  of  love  and  respect  for  a  concrete  per- 
sonality. The  child  should  first  be  led  to  feel  how  base 
it  is  to  lie,  and  how  cowardly  to  injure  a  weak  and  help- 
less creature,  by  witnessing  the  distress  it  causes  his  be- 
loved parent  or  teacher.  In  like  manner  he  should  be  led 
on  to  feel  the  nobility  of  generosity  and  self-sacrifice  by 
witnessing  the  delight  which  it  brings  his  moral  teacher. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add,  perhaps,  that  this  infu- 
sion of  morality  with  a  warm  sympathetic  reflection  of  the 
educator's  feelings  presupposes  the  action  of  that  moral 
atmosphere  which  surrounds  a  good  personality.  The 
child  only  fully  realizes  the  repugnance  of  a  lie  to  his 
parent  or  teacher  when  he  comes  to  regard  him  as  himself 
a  perfect  embodiment  of  truth.    The  moral  educator  must 


INFLUENCE  OF  MORAL  EXAMPLES.        353 

appear  as  the  consistent  respecter  of  the  moral  law  in  all 
his  actions.* 

The  training  of  the  moral  faculty  in  a  self-reliant  mode 
of  feeling  and  judging  includes  the  habitual  exercise  of 
the  sympathetic  feelings,  together  with  the  powers  of 
judgment.  And  here  much  may  be  done  by  the  educa- 
tor in  directing  the  child's  attention  to  the  effects  of  his 
conduct.  The  injurious  consequences  of  wrong-doing  and 
the  beneficent  results  of  right-doing  ought  to  be  made  clear 
to  the  child,  and  his  feelings  enlisted  against  the  one  and 
on  the  side  of  the  other.  Not  only  so,  his  mind  should 
be  exercised  in  comparing  actions  so  as  to  discover  the 
common  grounds  and  principles  of  right  and  wrong,  and 
also  in  distinguishing  between  like  actions  under  different 
circumstances,  so  that  he  may  become  rational  and  dis- 
criminative in  pronouncing  moral  judgment. 

What  is  called  moral  instruction  should  in  the  first 
stages  of  education  consist  largely  of  presenting  to  the 
child's  mind  examples  of  duty  and  virtue,  with  a  view  to 
call  forth  his  moral  feelings  as  well  as  to  exercise  his 
moral  judgment.  His  own  little  sphere  of  observation 
should  be  supplemented  by  the  page  of  history  and  of 
fiction.  In  this  way  a  wider  variety  of  moral  action  is 
exhibited,  and  the  level  of  every-day  experience  is  tran- 
scended. Such  a  widening  of  the  moral  horizon  is  neces- 
sary both  for  enlarging  and  refining  the  feeling  of  duty, 
and  for  rendering  the  meaning  of  moral  terms  deeper  and 
more  exact.  And  it  stimulates  the  mind  to  frame  an  ideal 
conception  of  what  is  good  and  praiseworthy. 

The  problem  of  determining  the  exact  relation  of  in- 
tellectual to  moral  culture  is  one  which  has  perplexed 
men's  minds  from  the  days  of  Socrates.  On  the  one  hand, 
as  has  been  remarked,  the  enlightenment  of  the  intelli- 
gence is  essential  to  the  growth  of  a  clear  and  finely  dis- 

*  On  the  importance  of  a  habit  of  exact  veracity  in  the  educator, 
see  Miss  Edgeworth,  '*  Practical  Education,"  i,  chap.  viii. 


354 


THE  HIGHER  SENTIMENTS. 


criminative  moral  sense.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  possible 
to  exercise  the  intellect  in  dealing  with  the  formal  dis- 
tinctions of  morahty  without  calling  the  moral  faculty  into 
full  vital  activity. 

This  practical  difficulty  presses  with  peculiar  force 
when  we  come  on  to  the  later  exercises  of  moral  instruc- 
tion. The  full  carrying  out  of  the  process  of  informing 
the  moral  intelligence  naturally  conducts  to  the  more  or 
less  systematic  exposition  of  the  ideas  and  truths  of  ethics. 
An  enlightened  conscience  is  one  to  which  the  deepest 
grounds  of  duty  have  begun  to  disclose  themselves,  and 
which  has  approximated  to  a  complete  and  harmonious 
ideal  of  goodness  by  a  systematic  survey  and  co-ordination 
of  the  several  divisions  of  human  duty  and  the  correspond- 
ing directions  of  moral  virtue  and  excellence.  Something 
in  the  shape  of  ethical  exposition  is  thus  called  for  when 
the  child  reaches  a  certain  point  in  moral  progress.  But 
the  educator  must  be  careful  to  make  this  dogmatic  in- 
struction supplementary  to,  and  not  a  substitute  for,  the 
drawing  forth  of  the  whole  moral  faculty  on  its  sensitive 
and  on  its  reflective  side  alike  by  the  presentation  of  living 
concrete  illustrations  of  moral  truth.  Divorced  from  this, 
it  can  only  degenerate  into  a  dead  formal  exercise  of  the 
logical  faculty  and  the  memory.* 

The  education  of  the  moral  sentiment  is,  as  we  have 
seen,  carried  out  in  part  by  the  influence  of  the  child's 
companions.  To  surround  him  with  companions  is  not 
only  necessary  for  his  comfort,  but  is  a  condition  of  de- 
veloping and  strengthening  the  moral  feelings,  as  the  senti- 
ment of  justice,  the  feeling  of  honor,  and  so  on.  The 
larger  community  of  the  school  has  an  important  moral 
function   in  familiarizing  the  child's  mind  with  the  idea 

*  The  relation  of  intellectual  to  moral  culture  is  dealt  with  in  an 
interesting  and  suggestive  paper  by  Mrs.  Bryant,  "  The  Intellectual 
Factor  in  Moral  Education,"  published  in  the  "  Journal  of  Education," 
February,  18S5. 


THE    TRAINING  OF   THE  MORAL  FACULTY.   355 

that  the  moral  law  is  not  the  imposition  of  an  individual 
will,  but  of  the  community.  The  standard  of  good  con- 
duct set  up  and  enforced  by  this  community  is  all  au- 
thoritative in  fixing  the  early  directions  of  the  moral 
judgment. 

This  being  so,  it  is  evident  that  the  moral  educator 
must  take  pains  to  control  and  guide  the  public  opinion 
of  the  school.  And  in  connection  with  this  he  should  seek 
to  counteract  the  excessive  influence  of  numbers,  and  to 
stimulate  the  individual  to  independent  moral  reflection, 

APPENDIX. 

On  the  cultivation  of  curiosity  and  a  love  of  intellectual  activity,  see 
Locke,  "  On  Education,"  sec.  it8  ;  Spencer,  "  Education,"  chap,  iii  ; 
Bain,  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap,  vi,  p.  177,  etc.  ;  Perez,  "  L'Edu- 
cation,"  chap.  ii.  The  pleasure  of  independent  discovery  by  the  young 
is  well  illustrated  by  Prof.  Tyndall,  "  Lectures  on  Education  "  (deliv- 
ered at  the  Royal  Institution),  Lect.  V.  Cf.  E.  Thring,  '*  Theory  and 
Practice  of  Teaching,"  part  i,  chap.  vi. 

On  the  cultivation  of  taste,  read  Miss  Edgeworth,  "  Practical  Edu- 
cation," chap,  xxii  ;  Bain,  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap,  xiii  ; 
Mdme.  Necker,  "  L'Education,"  livre  v,  chap,  iii  ;  Th.  Waitz,  "  AUgem. 
Paidagogik,"  2.  Theil,  2.  Absch.,  §  ig  ;  Perez,  "L'Education,"  chap, 
iii,  sec.  ii ;  and  Dr.  Bruno  Meyer,  "  Aus  der  cesthetischen  Paedagogik." 

The  early  stages  of  moral  development  are  dealt  with  by  Pfisterer, 
"  Psedagog.  Psychologic,"  kap.  2,  i^j^  16,  18.  On  the  training  of  the 
moral  faculty,  etc.,  see  H.  Spencer,  "  Education,"  chap,  iii ;  Bain, 
"  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap  iii,  p.  100,  etc.,  cf.  chap,  xii  ;  Mdme. 
Necker,  "  L'Education,"  livre  iii,  chap,  vi  ;  Beneke,  '*  Erziehungs  und 
Unterrichtslehre,"  i,  2.  Kap.,  Abschnitt,  2  and  4  ;  Th.  Waitz,  "  Allgem. 
Paedagogik,"  2.  Theil,  2.  Absch.,  §  14  ;  Perez,  "  L'Education,"  chap. 
vii,  sects,  ii  to  v  ;  and  Cornpayre,  "  Cours  de  Pedagogic,"  part  i, 
Ie9on  X. 


24 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  WILL  :  VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

Having  now  traced  in  its  main  outlines  the  course  of 
emotional  development,  we  may  pass  on  to  the  considera- 
tion of  the  development  of  the  third  side  or  phase  of  mind, 
namely,  the  active  side,  or  willing. 

DCx^nition  of  Willing. — The  terms  will  and  willing 
are  used  in  mental  science  in  a  comprehensive  manner,  so 
as  to  include  all  our  conscious  actions  or  doings,  whether 
external  bodily  actions,  as  walking,  speaking,  or  internal 
mental  actions,  as  concentrating  the  thoughts,  deliber- 
ating, etc.  In  a  narrower  and  stricter  sense  willing  covers 
only  those  actions  that  are  accompanied  by  a  clear  con- 
scious purpose.  Thus  the  action  of  warding  off  a  blow 
with  the  hand  is  an  act  of  will,  or  a  voluntary  action, 
whereas  blinking  when  an  object  is  suddenly  brought 
near  the  eye  is  spoken  of  as  non-voluntary,  because,  though 
we  are  conscious  of  the  movement,  we  do  not  distinctly 
purpose  to  perform  it. 

Willing,  Knowing,  and  Feeling. — As  was  pointed 
out  in  an  earlier  chapter,  there  is  a  certain  opposition  be- 
tween willing  and  the  other  two  main  modes  of  mental 
manifestation.  Thus,  to  be  actively  engaged  in  doing 
something,  contrasts  with  the  quiet  and  comparatively  pas- 
sive mental  attitude  of  reflection.  The  man  of  energetic 
action  is  popularly  opposed  to  the  man  of  reflection. 
Similarly,  strong  emotional  excitement  and  action  are  in- 


THE  BASIS  OF    WILLING:  DESIRE.         357 

compatible,  and  the  man  of  strong  will  is  one  who,  among 
other  things,  brings  emotion  under  control. 

At  the  same  time,  voluntary  action  always  includes 
an  element  of  knowing  and  of  feeUng.  The  motive  to 
voluntary  action,  the  end  or  object  desired,  is  the  realiza- 
tion or  gratification  of  some  feeling  (e.  g.,  ambition,  or  the 
sense  of  duty).  And  we  can  not  act  for  a  purpose  with- 
out knowing  something  about  the  relation  between  the 
action  we  are  performing  and  the  result  we  are  aiming  at. 
Thus,  in  every  case  it  is  feeling  which  supplies  the  stimu- 
lus or  force  to  volition,  and  intellect  which  guides  or  illu- 
mines it. 

Desire,  the  Basis  of  Willing.— When  a  boy  acts 
with  a  purpose,  say  to  win  his  teacher's  favor,  he  desires 
something,  viz.,  the  realization  of  the  idea  or  representa- 
tion of  something  pleasurable.  Desire  is  the  fundamental 
fact  in  the  process.  It  can  only  be  defined  as  the  out- 
going of  the  mind  in  an  active  impulse  or  movement  to- 
ward the  realization  of  the  idea  or  representation  of  some- 
thing pleasurable. 

Besides  this  positive  movement  of  attraction  toward 
what  is  seen  to  be  pleasurable,  there  is  a  negative  move- 
ment of  repulsion  away  from  what  is  painful,  as,  for  ex- 
ample, the  miserable  humiliating  experience  of  punish- 
ment. This  negative  form  of  desire  is  marked  off  as 
aversion. 

Desire,  though  an  active  mental  phenomenon,  presup- 
poses as  its  conditions  an  emotional  and  an  intellectual 
element.  We  do  not  desire  what  is  indifferent  to  us,  but 
only  what  brings  satisfaction.  Our  several  experiences 
of  pleasure  and  pain  thus  constitute  so  many  sources  of 
desire  and  aversion.  In  order,  however,  to  desire  a  new 
realization  of  some  pleasurable  experience,  it  is  necessary 
that  the  mind  recalls  and  imagines  it  with  a  certain  degree 
of  distinctness.  And  here  the  intellectual  element  of  rep- 
resentation comes  into  view.     The  strength  of  a  desire 


358    THE    WILL:    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

thus  varies  with  two  elements  :  (i)  the  magnitude  of  the 
experience  ;  (2)  the  degree  of  distinctness  with  which  it 
is  imagined.  A  schoolboy  will  generally  desire  the  long 
vacation  more  eagerly  than  the  weekly  holiday.  But  we 
all  fail  to  desire  even  great  pleasures  because  we  do  not 
vividly  represent  them.  This  applies  to  all  remote,  as 
compared  with  near,  prospects.  Children  do  not  strongly 
desire  a  distant  pleasure,  as  winning  a  prize,  because  they 
are  *'  weak  in  futurity,"  and  can  not  picture  distinctly  and 
steadily  the  far-off  delight.  That  which  is  near  influences 
all  of  us,  and  especially  the  young,  by  way  both  of  attrac- 
tion and  of  repulsion,  more  powerfully  than  that  which  is 
remote. 

Desire  and  Activity. — Desire  is  primarily  a  state 
of  feeling,  a  sense  of  want  and  craving.  At  the  same 
time  it  is  closely  connected  with  the  state  of  active  exer- 
tion. When  a  child  desires  a  thing,  he  feels  impelled  to 
do  something,  to  exert  his  active  powers  for  the  attain- 
ment of  the  object. 

This  active  outcome  of  the  state  of  desire  varies  ac- 
cording to  special  circumstances.  Sometimes  it  is  much 
fainter  and  less  sustained  than  at  other  times.  A  child 
will  often  feel  a  strong  craving  for  something,  say  a 
toy  or  a  book,  and  yet  not  be  disposed  to  any  consider- 
able exertion  for  the  sake  of  this.  We  are  not  always 
equally  disposed  to  do  things.  A  child  in  a  peevish,  in- 
dolent mood  is  apt  to  prolong  the  state  of  desire  till  it 
grows  excessively  painful  and  wearing.  Want  of  mental 
and  bodily  vigor  is  unfavorable  to  exertion.  On  the  other 
hand,  where  there  is  robust  vigor  and  a  strong  predisposi- 
tion to  activity,  desire  immediately  passes  into  exertion. 

We  see  from  this  what  is  the  natural  basis  of  an  active 
energetic  will.  This  consists,  first  of  all,  in  keenness  or 
intensity  of  desire.  And,  since  desire  stands  in  the  closest 
relation  to  feeling,  keenness  of  desire  clearly  carries  with 
it  vividness  or  intensity  of  feeling.     Strong  emotional  sus- 


FULL    VOLUNTARY  ACTION.  359 

ceptibilities  are  thus  an  antecedent  condition  of  vigorous 
activity.  But  feeling  in  itself  is  not  enough.  Many  chil- 
dren have  strong  feelings  but  no  corresponding  degree  of 
active  force.  What  is  needed  over  and  above  this  is  a 
powerful  disposition  to  act,  or  what  we  specially  mark  off 
as  the  active  temperament.  The  natural  foundation  of  an 
energetic  will  thus  consists  of  powerful  active  impulses 
sustained  by  intense  feelings.  The  conditions  of  the 
higher  manifestations  of  activity  in  calm  rational  volition 
will  appear  later  on. 

Desiring  and  Willing. — The  mere  desire  for  a 
thing,  and  the  impulse  to  strive  toward  its  attainment, 
though  the  fundamental  processes  in  volition,  do  not  of 
themselves  amount  to  a  full  voluntary  action.  In  order 
that  this  active  impulse  may  direct  itself  into  a  definite 
line  of  action  another  element  is  needed. 

This  new  factor  is  the  idea  or  representation  of  some 
particular  action  which  we  discern  to  be  a  means  to  the 
object  or  end  which  we  desire.  When,  for  example,  a 
child  desires  to  amuse  himself  with  a  toy,  and  goes  to  the 
cupboard  where  it  lies,  or  desires  to  give  a  pleasant  sur- 
prise to  his  mother,  and  exerts  himself  in  making  some- 
thing pretty  for  her,  we  have  the  selection  and  adoption 
of  a  particular  line  of  activity  which  is  seen  to  conduce  to 
the  desired  result.  This  is  a  voluntary  act  in  the  full 
sense.  The  child  wills  to  do  a  particular  thing  for  a 
particular  end.  This  adapting  of  means  to  ends  involves 
a  further  effect  of  experience,  which  teaches  the  child 
that  his  exertions  are  definitely  related  to  particular  re- 
sults as  the  conditions  of  producing  them  or  the  means  of 
attaining  them. 

Development  of  Willing. — Having  thus  roughly 
analyzed  the  process  of  willing,  we  proceed  to  trace  the 
main  stages  of  its  development. 

The  growth  of  willing,  like  that  of  knowing  and  feel- 
ing, follows  the  order,  from  the  simple  to  the  complex, 


360    THE    WILL  :    VOL  UNTAR  V  MO  VEMENT. 

and  from  the  presentative  to  the  representative.  The 
actions  of  a  young  child,  as  carrying  objects  to  the  mouth, 
are  comparatively  simple  movements  directed  to  present 
or  immediately  realizable  enjoyments.  The  actions  of  an 
adult,  such  as  writing  a  letter,  preparing  for  an  examina- 
tion, and  so  forth,  are  complex  chains  of  movements,  and 
involve  an  increase  of  representative  power,  viz.,  the 
ability  to  picture  remote  ends.  Or,  to  express  it  in  a 
somewhat  different  way,  action  is  at  first  prompted  from 
without,  being  a  response  to  present  sense-impressions  (e. 
g.,  the  sight  of  food) ;  whereas  later  on  it  becomes  more 
and  more  prompted  from  within,  being  called  forth  by  in- 
ternal processes  of  imagination  and  reflection. 

Instinctive  Factor  in  Volition. — The  growth  of 
the  will,  like  that  of  intelligence  and  feeling,  implies  the 
existence  of  certain  original  tendencies.  Every  child  is 
endowed  at  the  outset  with  a  number  of  instinctive  pro- 
pensities which  constitute  the  natural  basis  of  volition. 
Of  these  the  most  important  is  the  general  tendency  to 
seek  what  is  pleasurable  and  avoid  what  is  painful.  This 
is  the  great  primal  source  of  voluntary  action.  In  addi- 
tion to  this  general  tendency,  there  are  special  instinctive 
impulses  toward  definite  lines  of  action.  Thus  there  are 
the  appetites  or  impulses  growing  out  of  the  bodily  needs. 
It  is  probable,  too,  as  we  have  seen,  that  every  individual 
has  an  instinctive  tendency  to  display  his  powers,  to  re- 
quite injury  with  injury,  to  seek  others'  approbation,  and 
so  forth.  All  the  main  directions  of  human  activity  ap- 
pear to  be  more  or  less  distinctly  foreshadowed  by  in- 
stinctive impulses,  which  show  themselves  in  the  first  few 
years  of  life. 

Effects  of  Experience  and  of  Exercise. — In  the 
second  place,  experience  and  exercise  are  needed  to  de- 
velop these  instinctive  germs  of  volition.  Experience  is 
needed  to  give  the  child  definite  ideas  of  what  is  good 
and   pleasurable.      Even   the   desire  for  food,   the   most 


5  TRENG  THENING  THE  VOL  UN  TAR  V  PO  WERS.  36 1 

clearly  marked  variety  of  instinctive  impulse,  only  grows 
distinct  when  the  gratification  of  satisfying  the  appetite 
has  been  experienced  and  can  be  recalled.  And  in  many 
cases,  as  already  pointed  out,  experience  is  the  starting- 
point  of  desire.  In  this  way,  for  example,  a  child  may 
come  to  seek  the  pleasures  of  a  story,  of  sympathy,  and  so 
forth.  And  while  experience  is  thus  needed  to  teach  the 
child  what  is  desirable,  it  is  needed  still  more  to  tell  him 
how  he  is  to  compass  or  realize  his  desires.  The  whole 
work  of  directing  the  actions,  of  adapting  means  to  ends, 
is  the  result  of  a  process  of  learning  from  experience. 

Finally,  the  exercise  of  the  voluntary  powers  in  any 
direction  is  the  proper  means  of  strengthening  them  in 
that  direction.  Thus,  in  bringing  the  voluntary  muscles 
into  play,  facility  and  perfection  of  execution  are  reached 
by  means  of  prolonged  and  systematic  practice.  Similarly 
with  the  higher  moral  actions  of  self-control.  The  gen- 
eral law  of  mental  development,  "  Exercise  (provided  it  is 
suitable  in  form  and  quantity)  strengthens  faculty,"  holds 
good  in  the  region  of  volition. 

In  studying  the  development  of  willing,  we  shall  set 
out  with  the  simplest  form  of  external  action^  viz  ,  bodily 
movement.  From  this  we  may  pass  to  other  and  more 
complex  forms  in  which  the  internal  element  of  reflection 
and  free  choice  becomes  more  distinct.  And  with  these 
higher  forms  of  external  action  may  be  taken  those  purely 
internal  manifestations  of  will  which  we  call  the  control  of 
the  thoughts  and  the  feelings. 

Beginnings  of  Movement. — At  first  a  child  knows 
nothing  of  his  bodily  organs  or  his  powers  of  movement, 
or  of  the  relation  of  his  movements  to  the  satisfaction  of 
his  wants.     He  has  to  find  this  out  by  actual  experiment. 

While  the  human  offspring  contrasts  in  its  helplessness 
with  the  young  of  the  lower  animals,  it  is  provided  with 
original  and  instinctive  tendencies  to  move  its  limbs,  and 
tliese  are  of  considerable  importance  in  the  development 


362     THE    WILL:    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

of  voluntary  movement.  These  tendencies  are  trans- 
mitted from  parent  to  child  by  the  medium  of  definite 
structural  arrangements  in  the  nervous  system. 

Of  these  the  first  is  the  tendency  to  reflex  movement, 
or  movement  of  a  purposeless  and  comparatively  uncon- 
scious character,  in  response  to  sensory  stimulation. 
Some  of  these,  as  the  action  of  closing  the  fingers 
around  a  small  object  placed  on  the  palm  of  the  hand, 
appear  soon  after  birth.  Others,  as  blinking  when  an  ob- 
ject is  suddenly  brought  near  the  eyes,  occur  later. 

Next  to  these  in  the  order  of  importance  are  instinct- 
ive movements.  These  are  more  complex  than  reflex 
movements,  and  are  more  like  voluntary  movements,  in 
being  accompanied  by  feeling  and  a  vague  form  of  desire 
or  craving.  Some  of  these,  as  the  action  of  sucking,  are 
necessary  for  the  maintenance  of  the  child's  life,  and  so 
are  perfect,  or  nearly  so,  at  the  outset.  Others,  as  baby- 
singing,  pouting  when  vexed,  and  so  forth,  are  later. 

In  addition  to  these  more  definite  germs  of  movement, 
the  child  manifests  in  certain  conditions  a  tendency  to  a 
wide  range  and  variety  of  movements.  Thus,  when  the 
motor  organs  are  reinvigorated  after  sleep,  the  infant 
brings  his  limbs  into  play  spontaneously.  These  move- 
ments have  been  marked  off  as  spontaneous  or  random 
movements.  They  are  said  to  be  the  result  of  the  accu- 
mulation and  overflow  of  nervous  energy  in  the  motor 
organs  (centers  of  movements,  etc.). 

Finally,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  all  feeling  tends  to 
manifest  itself  in  movement.  States  of  pleasure  and  of 
pain  lead  at  the  outset  to  a  more  or  less  general  excitation 
of  the  organs  of  movement. 

Transition  to  Voluntary  Movement. — By  these 
several  varieties  of  unlearned  movement,  and  more  espe- 
cially the  last  group,  the  child  gains  some  experience  of 
his  powers,  and  learns  what  are  the  results  of  bringing 
them  into  play. 


VOLITION   THE  RESULT  OF  EFFORT.      363 

In  order  to  understand  this,  let  us  suppose  that  a 
bright  object  is  held  near  the  eyes  of  an  infant.  The  gay 
color  delights  it,  and  its  feeling  of  delight  vents  itself  in  a 
number  of  movements.  Suppose  that  one  of  these  is  the 
stretching  out  of  the  hand  toward  the  object.  This  brings 
the  hand  in  contact  with  the  thing,  and  so  gives  it  posses- 
sion and  command  of  it.  Such  a  result  occurring  repeat- 
edly would  impress  itself  on  the  child's  mind.  It  would 
(by  aid  of  its  muscular  sense)  distinguish  this  movement 
from  others,  and  associate  or  connect  with  it  the  gratifi- 
cation of  grasping  and  holding  an  object.  When  this 
stage  is  reached  the  movement  is  transformed  into  a  vol- 
untary one.  Wishing  to  hold  an  object  presented  to  it,  it 
puts  forth  its  hand  for  the  express  purpose  of  obtaining 
this  satisfaction.*^ 

Voluntary  movement  is  thus  the  outgrowth  of  trial  and 
experience.  The  child,  by  the  original  constitution  of  its 
mind,  tends  to  desire  and  seek  after  what  is  pleasurable 
and  subserves  its  welfare,  and  to  avoid  what  is  painful  and 
injurious.  But  this  impulse  needs  to  be  guided  by  expe- 
rience, and  this  experience  is  provided  for  by  the  primi- 
tive tendencies  and  impulses  to  movement  just  spoken  of. 

Effects  of  Exercise. — The  perfect  carrying  out  of 
any  voluntary  movement  is  the  result  of  a  gradual  process 
of  learning  and  improving.  The  movement  must  be  re- 
peated many  times  before  it  becomes  definite,  so  that  the 
child  can  carry  it  put  promptly  and  easily.  Not  only  so, 
repetitions  of  the  movement  are  needed  to  fix  the  associ- 
ation between  means  and  ends  in  the  child's  mind,  so  that 
the  desire  for  the  end  shall  instantly  suggest  the  appropri- 
ate action. 

The  mastery  of  a  few  simple  movements  prepares  the 
way  for  the  acquisition  of  new  and  more  difficult  ones. 
For  example,  a  child  has  learned  to  stretch  out  his  hands 
to  an  object  in  front  of  it.  A  new  situation  occurs.  Sit- 
ting on  the  floor,  his  toy  falls  from  his  hands.     By  help  of 


364    THE    WILL:    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

his  previous  experience  he  has  a  vague  idea  of  what  he 
has  to  do  to  recover  it.  And  by  a  series  of  trials  he  at 
length  modifies  the  old  movement  in  such  a  way  as  to 
make  it  fit  the  new  circumstances. 

Throughout  this  progressive  extension  of  the  range  of 
movement  the  child  is  continually  learning  to  isolate 
movements  one  from  another,  and  to  combine  them  in 
new  connections.  The  first  attempts  to  perform  a  deli- 
cate movement  or  group  of  movements,  say  those  of  writ- 
ing, involve  a  checking  of  a  general  or  diffused  impulse 
to  movement,  showing  itself  in  awkward  movements  of  the 
head,  fingers,  legs,  etc.* 

In  learning  special  varieties  of  finger  movement,  as  in 
playing  the  piano,  natural  or  acquired  associations  of 
movement  have  to  be  overcome.  On  the  other  hand,  all 
progress  in  movement  involves  construction.  The  child 
learns  to  combine  movements  already  mastered  in  isola- 
tion in  new  ways.  Thus,  in  learning  to  write  he  has  to 
hold  the  pen  in  a  certain  way,  and  at  the  same  time  carry 
out  the  necessary  movements.  The  drilling-lesson  im- 
poses a  combination  of  muscular  actions  of  the  head, 
arms,  etc. 

Imitation. — The  term  imitation  is  popularly  used  for 
the  adoption  of  any  movement,  feeling,  or  peculiarity  of 
thought  from  others.  In  mental  science  it  is  employed 
with  special  reference  to  actions.  By  an  imitative  move- 
ment is  meant  one  which  is  called  forth  directly  by  the 
sight  of  that  movement  as  performed  by  another.  Thus 
it  is  an  imitative  action  when  a  child  pouts  in  response  to 
another's  pout. 

The  imitative  repetition  of  another's  observed  move- 
ment involves  an  association  between  the  appearance  or 
sight  of  the  movement  and  its  actual  performance.  The 
first  imitative  actions,  e.  g.,  pouting,  show  themselves  as 

*  This  is  an  illustration  of  the  control  or  inhibition  of  impulse 
which  will  be  more  fully  dealt  with  in  the  next  chapter. 


BASIS  OF  IMITATION.  365 

early  as  the  fourth  month ;  *  and  this  suggests  that  the 
associations  involved  are  to  some  extent  inherited.  At 
the  same  time,  the  impulse  to  imitate  the  movements, 
gestures,  etc.,  of  others  grows  more  marked  toward  the 
end  of  the  first  year,  and  only  shows  itself  in  its  strongest 
form  in  the  second  year.  From  this  it  is  evident  that 
individual  experience  is  needed  to  develop  the  ability. 
Readiness  in  imitation  is  based  on  a  certain  range  of 
muscular  experience  in  moving  the  limbs,  and  attention  to 
the  corresponding  visual  impressions,  the  changing  aspects 
of  the  moving  organ. 

The  strong  manifestation  of  the  impulse  to  imitate  at 
this  early  period  appears  to  be  connected  with  a  growing 
facility  in  the  performance  of  bodily  movements,  and  a 
sense  of  enjoyment  in  bringing  the  moving  organs  into 
action.  A  definite  line  of  action  being  suggested  by  an- 
other's movement,  the  spontaneous  impulse  to  activity 
avails  itself  of  the  lead.  The  contagious  character  of 
romping  play  illustrates  this  side  of  imitation. 

Later  on  this  impulsive  and  "  unconscious  "  imitation 
tends  to  become  a  more  conscious  and  definitely  voluntary 
operation.  A  child  at  the  age  of  six  or  eight  imitates  the 
actions  of  others  under  the  influence  of  a  conscious  desire 
to  do  what  others  do.  The  prompting  motive  here  is  not 
always  the  same.  When  a  boy  imitates  the  bodily  feats  of 
another  boy,  he  is  impelled  by  the  wish  to  prove  and  dis- 
play his  powers,  and  to  show  himself,  equal  or  superior  to 
another.  In  other  cases  the  impulse  springs  rather  out 
of  the  social  feelings,  affection  and  admiration  for  some 
one  superior  to  himself,  as  his  parent  or  teacher. 

We  see  from  this  the  close  connection  between  imita  • 

*  Prof.  Preyer  says  that  a  child  when  less  than  four  months  old 
pouted  in  response  to  his  father's  pout  ("Die  Seele  des  Kindes," 
p.  177).  This  agrees  with  a  remark  of  Mr.  Darwin,  that  his  boy  ap- 
peared to  imitate  sounds  when  four  months  old.  See  his  "  Biographical 
Sketch  of  an  Infant,"  in  "  Mind,"  vol.  ii  (1877), 


366    THE    WILL:    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

tion  and  sympathy.  The  latter,  as  we  saw,  begins  with 
a  contagious  propagation  of  the  external  bodily  manifesta- 
tions, that  is,  the  characteristic  movements  by  which  the 
feeling  expresses  itself.  And,  conversely,  the  impulses  of 
sympathy,  when  developed,  prompt  to  a  more  reflective 
imitation  of  the  actions  of  those  who  are  the  objects  of 
affection. 

So  far  we  have  supposed  that  the  imitative  movement 
is  a  mere  reproduction  of  some  action  that  has  been  pre- 
viously acquired  independently,  as  when  a  child  opens  his 
mouth  in  response  to  another's  movement.  But  imitation 
has  a  much  wider  range  than  this.  The  child  imitates  new 
forms  of  movement.  Thus  the  infant  learns  to  wave  its 
hand  in  response  to  the  action  of  the  mother.  This 
higher  and  constructive  form  of  imitation  presupposes  a 
certain  range  of  motor  experience  gained  under  the  press- 
ure of  personal  needs  and  desires.  A  child  could  not 
learn  to  wave  his  hand  in  obedience  to  the  lead  of  an- 
other's movement  if  he  had  not  already  acquired  a  certain 
stock  of  experiences  in  waving  his  hands  in  other  ways. 
Similarly,  the  first  effort  in  vocal  imitation,  in  repeating 
the  words  uttered  by  others,  is  preceded  by  a  certain  stage 
of  spontaneous  or  feeling-prompted  exercise  of  the  organ. 

The  child's  tendency  to  imitate  those  about  him  is  a 
very  important  aid  to  the  development  of  his  will.  From 
a  very  early  period  it  co-operates  with  the  force  of  the 
child's  personal  desires,  and  so  tends  greatly  to  shorten 
the  process  of  acquisition  in  the  case  of  useful  movements 
which  he  would  otherwise  perform.  Thus  a  child  thrown 
with  other  children  who  are  just  able  to  v/alk  learns  to 
walk  more  quickly  than  one  cut  off  from  the  example  of 
others.  And  this  lead  of  example  tends  to  suggest  a  large 
variety  of  new  modes  of  movement,  and  so  to  extend  very 
much  the  range  of  action.  We  see  this  exemplified  in  a 
striking  manner  in  the  rapid  imitative  acquisition  of  gest- 
ures, vocal  groupings,  and  modifications  of  accent,  tone, 


CONDITIONS  OF  THE  IMITATIVE  IMPULSE.  367 

etc.,  of  other  children  and  of  adults,  which  often  takes 
place  toward  the  end  of  the  third  year. 

Children  vary  much  in  the  strength  of  the  imitative 
impulse.  This  is  partly  connected  with  unequal  degrees 
of  vigor  in  the  active  organs.  An  energetic  child  will  be 
more  disposed  to  pick  up  the  movements  of  others  than  a 
feeble,  lethargic  one.  Much,  too,  will  depend  on  the  close- 
ness of  attention  to  the  visible  aspects  of  movements  when 
performed  by  the  child  himself  and  by  others.  Finally, 
the  strength  of  the  impulse  to  imitate  others  will  vary 
much  with  the  emotional  temperament.  There  are  chil- 
dren strongly  disposed  to  fall  in  with  the  ways  of  others, 
to  rely  on  their  authority,  and  to  follow  their  lead.  These 
are  especially  imitative.  Others,  again,  of  a  more  inde- 
pendent, self-assertive  turn  of  mind,  are  apt  to  strike  out 
their  own  modes  of  action.  Such  are  in  general  much  less 
influenced  by  example  and  the  impulse  of  imitation. 

Excitation  of  Movement  by  Command. — One 
other  mode  of  external  excitation  of  movement  must  be 
glanced  at  here,  viz.,  that  by  way  of  verbal  sign  and  the 
word  of  command.  This,  like  the  force  of  imitation,  in- 
volves a  social  environment  and  the  action  of  other  human 
beings.  It  differs  from  imitation,  since  it  presupposes  a 
definite  purpose  to  call  forth  a  movement  on  the  part  of  a 
parent  or  other  person  invested  with  authority.  The  as- 
sociation between  the  act  of  sitting  upright  and  the  corre- 
sponding command  to  do  so,  unlike  that  between  seeing 
another  do  a  thing  and  doing  it  one's  self,  is  an  artificial 
association  which  has  to  be  built  up  by  the  agencies  of 
discipline  and  education.  This  action  of  authority  and 
discipline  is  an  important  factor  in  furthering  the  child's 
command  of  his  bodily  organs.  The  elaborate  terminology 
by  which  we  describe  the  various  moving  organs  and  their 
several  movements  enable  the  educator  to  specify  and  iso- 
late in  a  definite  and  precise  manner  the  particular  mus- 
cular action  that  is  required. 


368     THE    WILL:    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

Internal  Command  of  Movement. —  In  all   the 

forms  of  movement  considered  so  far,  action  occurs  in  re- 
sponse to  external  impressions.  A  higher  stage  is  reached 
when  movement  becomes  detached  from  external  impres- 
sions, and  appears  as  the  result  of  an  internal  process  of 
imagination,  as  when  a  child  thinks  of  the  pet  animal  in 
the  garden  that  wants  feeding,  or  the  flowers  that  want 
watering,  and  carries  out  the  appropriate  movements.  In 
this  way  movement  becomes  internally  initiated  or  excited, 
and  so  more  the  outcome  of  the  child's  inner  self,  his 
thoughts  and  wishes. 

From  the  ability  to  perform  a  particular  movement 
whenever  a  wish  arises  for  a  definite  result,  the  child,  by 
another  step  upward,  attains  the  power  of  moving  his 
bodily  organs  when  he  wishes  to  do  so  apart  from  any 
special  result.  This  higher  stage  of  development  of  move- 
ment involves  a  yet  greater  degree  of  facility  in  the  per- 
formance of  the  several  recurring  forms  of  bodily  move- 
ment, and  a  proportionate  readiness  to  carry  them  out. 
When  this  point  is  reached  the  child  may  be  said  to  have 
gained  a  complete  internal  command  of  his  bodily  organs. 
Henceforth,  they  will  be  in  a  new  and  higher  sense  the 
instruments  of  his  will,  made  responsive  and  obedient  to 
the  internal  wishes  and  purposes.  It  is  only  when  he  is 
thus  able  at  will  to  call  into  activity  his  several  active  or- 
gans, and  more  particularly  his  arms,  hands,  and  fingers, 
and  his  vocal  organ,  that  he  is  in  a  position  to  go  on  easily 
and  rapidly  to  new  and  more  complex  forms  of  action. 

The  progress  made  in  these  successive  stages  of  acquir- 
ing the  command  of  the  muscular  organs  will  vary  with 
the  native  powers  and  disposition  of  the  child,  and  the 
surrounding  influences  to  which  he  is  exposed.  Confining 
our  attention  for  the  present  to  the  former  or  internal 
conditions,  we  may  instance  among  the  more  important 
circumstances  :  {a)  a  vigorous  muscular  system,  with  a 
corresponding   readiness   to   do   things,  experiment,  and 


GROWTH  OF   VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT.    369 

persevere  in  a  succession  of  trials  ;  (f)  a  certain  discrimi- 
native delicacy  of  the  muscular  organs,  which  favors  a  nice 
execution  of  the  several  movements  ;  and  (<:),  closely  con- 
nected with  the  last  circumstance,  a  good  retentiveness  for 
movements,  which  favors  the  association  of  them  with  pas- 
sive sense-impressions  and  with  one  another,  and  so  se- 
cures the  reproduction  of  them. 

To  these  natural  aptitudes  must  be  added  a  strong 
interest  in  muscular  action,  and  a  close  and  steady  con- 
centration of  mind  on  the  several  forms  of  exercise.  The 
interest  may  spring  out  of  the  pleasures  of  muscular  activ- 
ity. But  the  attainment  of  the  more  difficult  muscular 
performances  involves  other  motives,  as  a  love  of  power, 
ambition,  and  so  forth.  The  importance  of  a  steady  con- 
centration of  mind  in  furthering  muscular  progress  is  one 
more  illustration  of  the  general  truth,  that  all  learn- 
ing, and  all  mental  development,  is  the  outcome  of  exer- 
tion, and  is  rapid  or  otherwise  according  to  the  intensity 
and  continuance  of  this  exertion. 

This  attainment  of  a  wide  and  perfect  command  of  the 
bodily  organs  involves  the  growth  of  will  in  more  ways 
than  one.  As  has  been  remarked, .  all  external  actions, 
including  the  most  elaborate  processes  of  moral  conduct, 
are  carried  out  by  means  of  movements  of  various  kinds. 
The  command  of  the  motor  organs  is  thus  a  necessary 
preliminary  to  the  higher  kinds  of  action.  Not  only  so, 
the  very  process  of  acquiring  this  command  of  move- 
ment implies  the  exercise  in  a  rudimentary  form  of  the 
higher  voluntary  powers,  and  more  particularly  persistence 
in  effort  and  trial,  determination  to  overcome  difficulties, 
and  practical  intelligence  in  comparing  and  choosing  be- 
tween alternatives.  Anybody  who  watches  an  infant  try* 
ing  to  combine  manual  movements  so  as  to  raise  or  turn 
over  a  heavy  and  unmanageable  object,  may  see  how  in 
this  early  and  crude  form  of  action  the  attributes  of  the 
higher  volition  begin  to  manifest  themselves. 


370 


THE    WILL:    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 


Movement  and  Habit.— The  term  habit  is  com- 
monly used  with  reference  to  any  recurring  mode  of 
mental  operation,  as  when  we  talk  of  a  ''habit  of  thought." 
In  a  narrower  and  more  restricted  sense,  it  refers  to  a 
principle  or  influence  operating  in  the  domain  of  volun- 
tary action.*  We  do  a  thing  from  habit  when,  as  the  re- 
sult of  many  repetitions,  we  carry  out  an  action  with  little 
consciousness  of  purpose  or  attention  to  the  precise  form 
of  the  action.  An  action  that  has  thus  grown  habitual 
takes  on  something  of  a  mechanical  or  automatic  charac- 
ter, and  so  resembles  reflex  and  instinctive  actions. 
Hence,  we  commonly  describe  such  habitual  actions  as 
"  instinctive." 

As  we  have  seen,  every  movement  tends  by  frequent 
performance  to  grow  easy.  There  remains  a  "  disposi- 
tion "  to  perform  it  whenever  it  is  suggested,  and  apart 
from  any  strong  promptings  of  desire.  This  disposition 
implies  not  only  a  psychological  fact,  a  greater  readiness 
to  perform  the  particular  action,  but  a  physiological  fact, 
namely,  a  modification  of  the  nerve-structures  concerned. 
This  fixed  disposition  or  tendency,  produced  by  repeti- 
tion and  practice,  to  act  in  a  given  way  in  response  to 
the  slightest  stimulus,  is  one  ingredient  in  what  we  call 
habit. 

The  second  constituent  of  habit  is  the  close  associa- 
tion between  a  definite  movement  and  certain  external 
circumstances  and  impressions.  When,  for  instance,  a 
person  on  going  to  bed  takes  out  his  watch  and  winds 
it  up  "  under  the  form  of  habit,"  the  external  circum- 
stances, including  the  sight  of  the  watch,  instantly  sug- 
gest and  call  forth  the  action  of  opening  the  watch,  etc., 
without  any  intervention  of  distinct  conscious  purpose. 
This  firm  connection  between  an  action  and  the  presence 
of  certain  external  circumstances  has  for  its  organic  base 
a  co-ordination  of  the  nerve-centers  concerned.  It  repre- 
*  Cf.  above,  p.  6i. 


THE  MECHANISM  OF  HABIT.  371 

sents  the  extreme  result  of  repetition  in  associating  and 
cementing  into  one  invisible  whole  contiguous  mental  ele- 
ments. 

When  a  number  of  movements  are  conjoined  either 
simultaneously  or  successively,  the  frequent  performance 
of  these  in  combination  tends  to  consolidate  the  separate 
links,  so  that  any  one  tends  to  call  up  the  others  without 
the  need  of  a  separate  and  distinct  voluntary  impulse. 
Thus,  when  a  boy  has  perfectly  mastered  a  poem,  he  re- 
peats the  appropriate  gestures  along  with  certain  words  in 
a  mechanical  way.  Similarly,  he  carries  out  in  a  semi- 
conscious manner  the  series  of  movements  involved,  as 
those  which  enter  into  walking,  swimming,  dancing,  etc. 

Strength  of  Habit.— Habits,  like  contiguous  asso- 
ciations among  our  ideas,  are  of  very  different  degrees  of 
strength.  The  degree  of  perfection  of  a  habit  may  be  es- 
timated by  the  promptness  and  the  certainty  of  the  active 
response  to  stimulus.  Thus  the  soldier's  "  response  to  an 
order,  as  *  Attention  ! '  "  is  "  mechanically  perfect  "  when 
it  follows  immediately  and  in  every  case.  The  strength 
of  a  habit  may  be  estimated  in  other  ways  also.  It  follows 
from  the  above  account  of  the  mechanism  of  habit,  that  it 
is  a  tendency  to  a  special  kind  of  action  which  is  physio- 
logically better  organized  than  those  other  varieties  which 
are  accompanied  by  clear  consciousness.  Hence,  its 
strength  may  be  estimated  by  the  difficulty  of  controlling 
and  altering  it,  and  by  the  degree  of  discomfort  which  at- 
tends its  non-fulfillment. 

The  main  conditions  presupposed  in  a  firm  or  perfect 
habit  are  as  follows  :  (i)  A  sufficient  motive  force  brought 
to  bear  at  the  outset,  in  order  to  excite  the  requisite  ef- 
fort. The  will  must  by  an  effort  of  concentration  gain 
full  possession  of  an  action  before  it  can  hand  it  over  to 
its  subordinate,  habit.  (2)  A  prolonged  repetition  of  the 
action  in  connection  with  the  appropriate  circumstances. 
Repetition  is  the  great  means  of  fixing  movement  in  the 
25 


372     THE    WILL:    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

channels  of  habit.  (3)  An  uninterrupted  continuity  of 
performance  in  like  circumstances.  The  importance  of 
not  intermitting  the  carrying  out  of  an  action  is  known  to 
every  parent  and  teacher.  A  perfectly  firm  association 
leading  to  an  instant  and  unreflective  performance  can 
only  be  secured  by  a  perfect  consistency  and  uniformity 
in  practice. 

It  is  to  be  added  that  the  growth  of  habit  is  much 
easier  in  the  early  "  plastic  "  period  of  life  than  later  on. 
A  more  extended  process  of  acquisition,  a  larger  number 
of  repetitions,  are  needed  to  fix  action  in  a  definite  direc- 
tion in  later  years.  Not  only  so,  since  the  habitual  modes 
of  movement  acquired  in  early  life,  like  the  first  impres- 
sions about  things,  are  most  lasting  and  difficult  to  get  rid 
of,  the  formation  of  good  habits  later  on  is  obstructed  by 
the  tenacity  of  the  opposed  early  habits.  A  child  that  has 
early  acquired  an  awkward  way  of  sitting,  or  unpleasant 
tricks  of  manner,  gives  special  difficulty  to  the  educator. 
Movement  tends  to  set  in  the  old  direction,  and  many  a 
painful  effort  is  needed  to  check  the  current. 

Fixity  and  Plasticity  of  Movement. — So  large  a 
part  of  our  life  is  a  recurrence  of  similar  circumstances 
and  similar  needs,  that  the  principle  of  habit  exerts  some 
influence  in  every  direction  of  our  activity.  Thus,  the 
actions  by  which  we  care  for  the  needs  of  the  body,  our 
behavior  before  others,  and  so  forth,  are  properly  domi- 
nated by  this  principle.  In  this  way  nerve-energy  is  econ- 
omized, and  the  powers  of  the  mind  are  left  free  for  other 
matters.  Wherever  similar  circumstances  frequently  recur 
and  call  for  like  modes  of  action,  the  co-operation  of  the 
principle  of  habit  is  a  clear  gain. 

At  the  same  time,  human  life  differs  from  animal  life 
in  the  greater  degree  of  its  complexity  and  variability. 
The  child  is  not  furnished  with  an  outfit  of  "  instincts  " 
to  start  with,  as  the  lower  animals,  are.  Development,  as 
already  pointed  out,  consists  in  a   process  of  successive 


HABIT  MAY  ARREST  DEVELOPMENT.     373 

modifications,  issuing  in  better  adaptations  to  external  cir- 
cumstances. While,  then,  the  formation  of  habits  is  an 
important  part  of  growth,  it  is  not  the  whole.  Fixity  in 
definite  directions  must  not  exclude  plasticity  and  modifi- 
ability  in  others.  The  complete  and  absolute  rule  of  habit 
marks  the  arrest  of  development.^ 

Training  of  Will  and  the  Active  Organs.— As 
already  observed,  the  child's  attainment  of  power  to  use 
his  bodily  organs  and  perform  movements  is  greatly  pro- 
moted by  the  direction  of  others.  The  control  of  the 
child's  actions  by  the  parent  begins  with  exercising  him  in 
the  use  of  his  muscles.  This  training  of  the  muscular  or- 
gans belongs  in  part  to  what  is  called  physical  education. 
The  well-known  effects  of  muscular  exercise  in  promoting 
the  general  circulation  of  the  blood  and  the  maintenance 
of  bodily  heat  give  it  an  important  place  in  the  educator's 
study  and  furtherance  of  the  health  of  his  pupils.  The 
prominence  given  to  the  general  development  of  the  mus- 
cular frame  by  kindergarten  exercises,  gymnastics,  and 
the  encouragement  of  out-of-door  games,  points  to  the 
recognition  of  the  dependence  of  the  general  health 
and  mental  efficiency  on  muscular  development.  To 
this  it  must  be  added  that  in  its  more  advanced  forms, 
involving  special  practice  and  skill,  the  exercise  of  the 
muscular  powers  is  carried  out  for  the  sake  of  attaining 
a  special  bodily  excellence,  viz.,  robustness,  and  agility  of 
limb. 

At  the  same  time,  the  exercise  of  the  active  organs  is 
in  a  measure  involved  in  intellectual  education.  This  ap- 
plies more  particularly  to  the  training  of  the  hand  and  the 
voice.  Teaching  children  to  speak  distinctly,  to  read,  and 
to  write,  is  commonly  looked  on  as  a  part  of  intellectual 
instruction.  It  is  obvious  that  these  actions  largely  sub- 
serve the  ends  of  knowledge,  and  are  indeed  necessary  to 
the  taking  in  and  giving  out  of  knowledge.  In  more  spe- 
cial directions,  as  the  exercise  of  manual  dexterity  in  draw- 


374    2^^^    WILL:    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

ing,  this  training  aims  at  the  production  of  some  useful 
and  technical  skill. 

While  the  exercise  of  the  active  organs  in  special  direc- 
tions thus  falls  under  physical  or  intellectual  training,  the 
exercise  of  them  in  the  carrying  out  the  ordinary  actions 
of  daily  life  comes  more  appropriately  under  the  head  of 
moral  training.  As  we  have  seen,  the  growth  of  the  will 
begins  with  the  attainment  of  the  power  of  commanding  the 
organs  of  movement.  It  is  in  movement  that  clear  pur- 
pose and  intention  first  display  themselves.  All  practice 
in  doing  things,  then,  whatever  its  primary  object  may  be, 
is  to  some  extent  a  strengthening  of  volitional  power.*® 

In  assisting  in  this  early  stage  of  will-development  the 
educator  should  bear  in  mind  that  children  are  disposed 
to  activity,  and  in  their  self-appointed  occupations  and 
play  show  that  they  are  capable  of  making  real  progress 
without  any  direct  control  from  parent  or  teacher.  The 
young  child  should  from  the  beginning  have  ample  oppor- 
tunity for  exercising  his  active  organs  freely,  with  only  a 
general  supervision  and  an  imposition  of  a  few  necessary 
restraints.  His  nursery  and  his  play-ground  should  be  pro- 
vided with  objects  fitted  to  call  forth  movement,  manual 
and  bodily.  The  important  part  played  by  imitation,  in 
the  growth  of  voluntary  movement,  suggests  the  advantages 
of  companionship  in  these  early  occupations.  K  child  is 
stimulated  by  the  sight  of  others  doing  some  new  thing- 
Not  only  so,  in  all  common  harmonious  movements,  as 
those  of  many  social  games  and  kindergarten  exercises,  a 
new  pleasurable  stimulus  is  supplied  in  the  feeling  of  sym- 
pathy, co-operation,  and  harmonious  adjustment. 

The  special  province  of  the  educator  in  this  rudi- 
mentary training  of  the  will  begins  with  showing  the  child 
how  to  do  things.  This  requires  judgment.  It  is  better 
for  children  to  find  out  the  way  to  do  a  thing  for  them- 
selves where  they  can,  just  as  it  is  better  for  them  to  dis- 
cover a  fact  or  a  truth  for  themselves.     Nothing  is  more 


MANAGEMENT  OF  ORGANS  OF  MOVEMENT.   375 

fatal  to  growth  of  will  than  that  indolence  which  shrinks 
from  the  effort  of  trial  and  experiment.  Consequently,  the 
educator  that  is  always  interfering  with  children's  play  in 
order  to  instruct  and  show  them  how  to  do  things,  is  los- 
ing sight  of  one  of  the  most  important  conditions  of  de- 
velopment, viz.,  self -activity. 

As  the  child  grows,  his  actions  come  more  under  the 
control  of  the  educator.  The  parent  has  at  an  early  stage 
to  bid  the  child  sit  at  table  and  hold  his  spoon  in  a  cer- 
tain way,  articulate  his  words  distinctly,  and  so  forth. 
And  to  this  home  instruction  there  adds  itself  later  the 
more  systematic  training  of  the  school.  In  the  bodily 
performances  of  the  kindergarten,  the  manual  exercises  of 
drawing,  writing,  etc.,  and  the  employment  of  the  vocal 
organs  in  reading  and  singing,  the  teacher  becomes  the 
trainer  of  the  child's  muscular  powers  in  various  lines  of 
orderly  constructive  activity. 

The  object  to  be  aimed  at  in  all  such  exercises  is  to 
train  the  child  to  the  best  possible  use  and  management 
of  his  organs  of  movement.  The  ideally  perfect  action  is 
one  which  is  fully  adequate  to  the  purpose  in  hand,  and 
at  the  same  time  involves  no  unnecessary  expenditure  of 
force.  Hence  the  teacher  should  aim  first  of  all  at  ade- 
quacy and  thoroughness  of  performance,  even  in  such  ap- 
parently trifling  actions  as  hanging  up  the  hat.  And  in 
the  second  place  he  should  seek  to  correct  all  clumsiness 
in  the  use  of  the  muscular  organs,  and  to  develop  a  fa- 
cile precision  of  movement,  which  is  at  once  an  econ- 
omy of  force  and  the  source  of  what  we  call  grace  in 
movement. 

In  building  up  such  perfect  bodily  acquirements  a 
number  of  conditions  have  to  be  satisfied.  To  begin  with, 
the  educator  must  be  careful  as  to  what  he  insists  upon. 
The  task  must  not  be  above  the  child's  strength  of  muscle, 
or  the  degree  of  discriminative  delicacy  attained.  The 
teacher   should   remember  that   movements  which   have 


376    THE    WILL:    VOLUNTARY  MOVEMENT. 

become  easy  and  natural  to  us  by  long  practice  involve 
much  difficulty  at  the  outset.  Care  must  be  taken  to 
proceed  gradually,  and  to  make  the  elementary  move- 
ments perfect  before  going  on  to  complex  groupings  of 
these. 

It  is  not  meant  by  this  that  the  child  is  not  to  be 
called  on  to  make  a  serious  effort.  The  exercises  will 
only  be  a  training  of  the  will  in  so  far  as  they  call  forth 
such  effort.  The  child's  indolence  and  disinclination  to 
the  irksomeness  of  a  sustained  concentration  of  mind  on 
a  movement  or  series  of  movements  should  be  overcome. 
And  here  an  appeal  to  some  motive  other  than  the  mere 
pleasure  of  activity  will  often  be  needed.  The  child's 
desire  to  get  on,  to  do  things  as  well  as  those  a  little  in 
advance  of  him,  and  wish  to  please,  will  suffice  to  prompt, 
the  initial  effort. 

Finally,  the  educator  should  remember  that  every  per- 
fect action  is  a  habit,  and  that  its  realization  depends  on 
the  fulfillment  of  the  general  conditions  of  the  formation 
of  habits.  A  gentle  firmness  at.  the  outset,  followed  up  by 
a  uniform  insistence  on  the  repetition  of  the  action  in  the 
appropriate  circumstances,  is  what  he  has  to  take  special 
care  of  here.  When  these  initial  conditions  are  fulfilled, 
the  educator  can  trust  for  the  final  result  to  that  valuable 
ally,  the  principle  of  habit  itself,  which  unfailingly  works 
toward  the  transformation  of  oft-repeated  actions  into  self- 
sustaining  and  "  natural  '*  ones. 

The  careful  graduation  of  work  according  to  capability 
may  be  illustrated  by  the  method  of  teaching  deaf-mutes 
to  speak  by  a  process  of  imitative  movement.  The  teacher 
begins  with  movements  of  the  external  parts  of  the  body, 
which  are  distinctly  visible  to  the  child  when  he  himself 
performs  them,  and  as  a  consequence  easier  of  imitation. 
Only  after  a  certain  practice  of  the  imitative  capability  in 
this  simple  form  does  he  venture  to  go  on  to  call  forth  the 
more  delicate  and  hidden  movements  of  the  organs  of 


IMITATION   WITH  DEAF-MUTES,  377 

articulation,  which  can  not  be  guided  by  sight,  and  have 
to  be  taught  by  the  aid  of  the  sense  of  touch. 

APPENDIX. 

On  the  early  development  of  will  in  voluntary  movements,  see 
Perez,  "  The  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  chaps,  ii  and  vii,  and 
Preyer,  "  Die  Seele  des  Kindes,"  2.  Theil.  On  the  relation  of  bodily 
training  to  education,  see  Waitz,  "  Allgemeine  Psedagogik,"  §7; 
Dittes,  "  Grundriss  der  Erziehungs  und  Unterrichtslehre,"  §^  13  and 
14  ;  and  Compayre,  "  Cours  de  Pedagogic,"  lejon  ii. 


CHAPTER  XX.  ^ 

MORAL    action:     CHARACTER. 

Having  in  the  preceding  chapter  traced  the  steps  by 
which  a  child  acquires  the  command  of  his  moving  organs, 
we  may  pass  on  to  consider  the  higher  developments  of 
will,  in  which  action  becomes  more  reflective,  and  aims  at 
other  results  than  immediately  realizable  gratifications. 

In  order  to  understand  how  this  more  rational  type  of 
action  arises,  we  have  to  trace  the  effect  of  two  in- 
fluences: (a)  that  of  the  growing  intelligence  of  the 
child ;  and  {d)  that  of  the  fuller  and  wider  development 
of  the  feelings  and  desires. 

(a)  Influence  of  Growing  Intelligence.— The 
early  type  of  action,  that  represented  by  bodily  move- 
ment, aims  at  an  immediate  result.  The  young  child  can 
not  aim  at  a  remote  gratification,  say  the  pleasure  of  win- 
ning a  prize  at  some  distant  date.  And  this  because  he 
has  little  representative  power,  and  can  not  steadily  pict- 
ure a  remote  gratification,  or  see  its  connection  with  a 
present  action.  The  growth  of  intelligence  supplies  this 
ability.  A  child  gradually  learns  that  his  actions  have 
remote  consequences,  e.  g.,  that  an  act  of  disobedience  to- 
day may  bring  him  deprivation  to-morrow. 

This  growth  of  knowledge  and  representative  power 
will  show  itself  in  different  ways,  (a)  Thus  a  child  will 
come  to  aim  at  secondary  ends,  that  is,  objects  which, 
though  not  valuable  in  themselves,  are  the  means  of  at- 


GROWTH  OF  FEELING, 


379 


taining  what  he  desires.  In  this  way  he  first  acquires  the 
habit  of  obeying  his  parents  and  teachers,  of  putting 
things  by  for  future  enjoyment  or  use,  and  so  forth,  {b) 
As  a  further  result  of  growing  intelligence,  the  child 
learns  to  aim  at  what  we  call  permanent  interests  or 
ends,  such  as  health,  knowledge,  and  the  love  and  esteem 
of  others.  He  finds  that  excessive  indulgence  not  only 
brings  discomfort  now,  but  may  prevent  his  growing 
strong  by  and  by  ; .  that  neglect  of  study  to-day  leaves 
him  permanently  less  intelligent  than  he  might  be,  and 
so  forth.  In  other  words,  he  recognizes  the  fact  that 
there  are  permanent  forms  of  good  which  can  only  be 
secured  by  a  prolonged  and  consistent  direction  of  ac- 
tivity. 

(b)  Influence  of  Growth  of  Feeling. — In  the 
second  place,  the  volitions  of  the  child  are  developed 
by  the  extension  of  the  range  of  the  desires.  This  is 
effected  to  some  extent  by  the  growth  of  secondary  de- 
sires, that  is,  desires  for  objects,  as  health,  property,  and 
reputation,  which  are  originally  sought  as  means  only. 
The  boy's  desire  to  be  rich  springs  up  in  the  first  instance 
through  an  imagination  of  the  many  pleasures  he  could 
obtain  by  riches.  But  from  being  pursued  as  means  of 
enjoyment,  such  things  tend  to  acquire  a  value  in  them- 
selves. 

The  chief  agency,  however,  in  extending  the  range  of 
desire  is  the  growth  of  new  feelings.  As  already  pointed 
out,  the  instinctive  germs  of  desire  have  to  be  supple- 
mented by  experiences  of  what  is  pleasurable  and  painful. 
And  as  the  emotional  nature  unfolds,  new  forms  of  desire 
spring  up.  Thus,  to  the  early  motives  of  infancy,  the 
bodily  satisfactions,  the  pleasures  of  sense,  and  the  de- 
light in  activity,  there  are  added  the  pleasure  of  competi- 
tion, the  love  of  approbation,  and  the  desire  to  please, 
and  so  forth.  And  finally,  there  appear  as  new  springs  of 
action  the  desire  for  knowledge  and  the  love  of  duty.     By 


38o  MORAL  ACTION :  CHARACTER. 

these  successive  developments  of  the  feelings  new  motives 
are  supplied,  and  action  is  prompted  in  a  larger  number 
of  directions. 

Complex  Action. — A  necessary  result  of  this  growth 
of  intelligence  and  expansion  of  feelings  and  desires  is 
that  action  grows  more  complex  in  respect  of  its  originat- 
ing impulses  or  motives.  Instead  of  being  prompted  by  a 
single  desire,  it  is  the  outcome  of  a  number  of  desires. 
This  compositeness  of  impulse  may  assume  one  of  two 
forms — {a)  co-operation  of  impulses,  and  {b)  opposition 
of  impulses. 

(a)  By  a  co-operation  of  impulses  is  meant  the  com- 
bining of  two  or  more  desires  in  prompting  action  in  one 
and  the  same  direction.  Thus  a  child  may  carry  out  an 
action  partly  to  gain  some  personal  satisfaction,  and  partly 
to  please  his  parent  or  teacher.  A  strong  bent  to  activity, 
with  its  connected  love  of  exerting  the  active  powers,, 
leads  to  a  frequent  performance  of  actions  under  a  double 
impulse. 

(b)  The  more  important  case  of  composition  of  im- 
pulses is  that  in  which  they  oppose  one  another.  Here 
two  or  more  desires  prompt  to  different  courses.  Thus, 
a  child  may  feel  impelled  to  indulge  in  a  forbidden  pleas- 
ure, and  at  the  same  time  feel  deterred  by  a  fear  of  pun- 
ishment. Or  he  may  feel  attracted  to  two  incompatible 
lines  of  action,  as  play  and  study. 

Deliberation  and  Choice. — This  opposition  of  im- 
pulses supplies  the  occasion  for  a  new  and  higher  mani- 
festation of  will.  The  presentation  to  the  mind  of  two 
alternative  courses  calls  for  a  preliminary  process  of  re- 
flection and  choice. 

In  order  that  this  operation  may  be  carried  out,  a 
severe  exertion  or  an  effort  of  will  is  needed  at  the  outset 
in  checking  or  restraining  the  impulses  to  action.  To 
reflect  whether  it  is  desirable  to  gain  a  satisfaction  at  the 
cost  of  some  penalty,  or  which  of  two  pleasurable  ends  is 


DELIBERATION  AND  CAUTION.  381 

the  more  valuable,  implies  that  the  mind  has  for  the  mo- 
ment mastered  the  tendency  of  impulse  to  work  itself  out 
into  external  action. 

When  this  first  step  is  secured,  the  mind  has  to  repre- 
sent each  end  distinctly  and  steadily,  and  compare  the 
two  one  with  another.  Here  the  moral  judgment  is  called 
on  to  compare  and  measure  things  in  respect  of  their 
value  and  their  bearing  on  the  individual's  happiness. 

The  outcome  of  this  process  of  deliberation  is  a  decis- 
ion in  favor  of  what  the  mind  judges  to  be  the  more  wor- 
thy and  desirable.  This  is  called  an  act  of  choice.  It 
involves  the  discrimination  of  one  thing  as  better  than 
another. 

The  ability  thus  to  check  impulse  by  deliberation  is 
the  characteristic  of  a  fully  developed  and  enlightened 
will.  Its  attainment  is  a  slow  process,  which  only  begins 
in  the  first  years  of  life.  Children  with  their  strong  incli- 
nation to  act  find  it  hard  to  defer  decision.  And  where  a 
conflict  of  impulses  occurs  they  are  unable  to  master  the 
turbulence  of  the  conflicting  desires.  Hence  we  often 
find  that  the  conflict  resolves  itself  by  the  more  powerful 
impulse  working  itself  out,  or  that  the  child  abandons  the 
problem  of  deciding  in  a  state  of  impotent  despair. 

What  is  needed  for  the  attainment  of  this  power  is 
first  of  all  a  certain  experience  of  the  evils  of  hasty  action, 
and  a  power  of  retaining  and  recalling  these.  The  dispo- 
sition to  deliberate  presupposes  that  the  child  fears  to  act 
rashly.  Some  children  are  specially  retentive  of  such  evil 
effects,  and  so  acquire  this  cautiousness  much  sooner  than 
others.  In  the  second  place,  the  child's  practical  intelli- 
gence needs  to  be  exercised  and  strengthened  so  that  he 
may  gradually  acquire  readiness  in  comparing  actions,  and 
judging  with  respect  to  their  wisdom  and  rightness. 

Resolution  and  Perseverance. — One  further  out- 
come of  this  higher  volitional  development  is  what  is 
known  as  resolution.     This  term  implies  a  fixed  determi- 


382  MORAL  ACTION:  CHARACTER, 

nation  to  do  something  before  the  actual  moment  for  per- 
formance arrives.  The  formation  of  a  resolution  involves 
reflection  beforehand,  and  so  a  more  elaborate  prepara- 
tion for  action.  Thus  a  child  that  resolves  to  tell  his 
mother  that  he  has  broken  something  must  be  capable  of 
looking  ahead  and  distinctly  representing  a  set  of  circum- 
stances, the  meeting  with  the  mother,  her  questioning  him, 
and  so  forth. 

All  the  more  difficult  and  prolonged  processes  of  ac- 
tion involve  resolution.  To  keep  steadily  possessing  an 
end  through  a  series  of  means  implies  a  firm  hold  on 
the  object  of  desire  and  a  fixed  determination  to  at- 
tain it. 

While  the  power  of  deliberating  and  choosing  gives 
reasonableness  to  our  actions,  that  of  persevering  in  our 
decisions  gives  firmness  or  stability.  Children  are  in  gen- 
eral wanting  in  such  firmness,  just  as  they  are  wanting  in 
stability  and  consistency  of  judgment.  A  child's  decisions 
are  apt  to  be  determined  by  the  circumstances  of  the  mo- 
ment, and  to  alter  themselves  in  an  amusing  way  as  the  in- 
fluences of  the  moment  vary.  The  child's  mind,  being 
'*  weak  in  futurity,'*  is  incapable  of  the  range  of  mental 
vision  involved  in  a  far-reaching  resolution. 

It  is  important  to  distinguish  firmness  of  purpose  and 
stability  of  will  from  obstinacy.  Firmness  clearly  involves 
a  measure  of  independence,  a  readiness  to  assert  our  indi- 
vidual decision  over  and  against  the  persuasions  of  others. 
At  the  same  time,  as  in  the  case  of  judgment,  so  in  that  of 
voluntary  resolution,  there  may  be  an  excess  of  independ- 
ence, leading  to  a  foolish  rejection  of  advice  and  persuasion 
from  others.  This  is  known  as  self-will  or  obstinacy.  It 
is  distinct  from  a  genuine  firmness  that  reposes  on  calm 
and  enlightened  conviction,  and  has  its  main  support  in  a 
love  of  self-assertion  and  a  defiance  of  others.  This  ap- 
plies to  a  good  deal  of  childish  obstinacy,  though  it  is 
probable  that  resistance  to  persuasion  and  authority  is 


EVOLUTION  OF  SELF-CONTROL.  383 

often  the  outcome  of  a  sincere  childish  assurance  of  the 
soundness  of  their  decisions.^ 

Self-Control. — The  exercise  of  the  powers  of  reflec- 
tion and  rational  choice  lead  on  to  what  is  called  self-con- 
trol. By  this  is  meant  the  power  of  checking  and  bringing 
under  the  earlier  and  lower  impulses,  and  subordinating 
these  to  the  pursuit  of  higher  and  worthier  ends.  Self- 
control  implies  the  development  of  a  higher  motive — 
higher,  that  is,  both  in  the  order  of  development  and  in 
ethical  value — and  the  supremacy  of  this  over  a  lower 
volitional  force.  It  implies,  further,  the  development  of 
practical  intelligence  and  the  ability  to  deliberately  prefer 
a  more  worthy  satisfaction  to  a  less  worthy, 

(a)  Control  of  Impulse* — The  acquisition  of  the 
power  of  self-control  may  be  traced  through  a  number  of 
ascending  stages. 

The  simplest  and  earliest  form  is  where  some  actual  or 
immediately  attainable  gratification  is  abandoned  for  the 
sake  of  some  greater  satisfaction,  or  of  the  avoidance  of 
some  greater  dissatisfaction  in  the  future.  This  is  illus- 
trated in  the  effort  of  an  indolent  child  enjoying  its  lazi- 
ness to  set  about  some  prescribed  task,  and  of  a  greedily- 
disposed  child  to  give  up  the  present  satisfaction  of  eating/ 
his  sweets  in  order  to  enjoy  them  on  the  morrow. 

A  higher  stage  of  self-control  is  reached  when  the 
child's  intelligence  seizes  the  idea  of  permanent  ends,  as 
bodily  strength,  knowledge,  and  reputation.  The  region 
of  action  now  becomes  more  perfectly  ordered  by  a  sub- 
ordination of  particular  momentary  impulses  to  enduring 
interests.  Thus  a  present  inclination  to  disobey  is  con- 
trolled by  the  desire  for  the  lasting  affection  and  good 
opinion  of  the  parent  or  the  teacher. 

A  yet  higher  degree  of  co-ordination  of  desires,  and 
of  the  reduction  of  the  first  chaos  of  impulses  to  order, 
is  reached  when  the  child's  powers  enable  him  to  com- 
pare his  several  interests  one  with  another,  and  to  recog- 


384  MORAL  ACTION:  CHARACTER. 

nize  their  relative  value  as  constituents  of  his  total  happi- 
ness. When  this  point  of  development  is  attained,  the 
child  will  control  the  impulse  to  pursue  the  ends  of  popu- 
larity, intellectual  eminence,  and  so  forth,  by  a  reference 
to  a  higher  principle  of  action,  viz.,  the  attainment  of 
well-being. 

The  last  and  crowning  stage  of  this  process  of  sub- 
jecting impulse  to  principle  is  seen  in  the  subordination 
of  the  individual  interests  to  the  common  good.  To  aim 
at  the  happiness  of  others  is  not  natural  to  the  child. 
The  disposition  to  do  so  has  to  be  gradually  built  up. 
The  readiness  to  postpone  his  own  happiness  to  the  claims 
of  others  presupposes  a  development  of  the  social  feelings 
and  of  the  moral  sentiment. 

{b)  Control  of  the  Feelings.— In  addition  to  this 
control  of  impulse  and  action,  self-control  includes  the 
mastery  and  regulation  of  other  forces. 

Of  these,  the  first  is  feeling.  As  we  have  seen,  the 
feelings  immediately  vent  themselves  in  physical  actions, 
and  among  these  the  movements  of  the  voluntary  muscles, 
those  of  the  face,  arms,  etc.  The  control  of  feeling  is 
thus  in  a  measure  similar  to  that  of  impulse.  The  first 
thing  a  child  has  to  do  in  checking  the  force  of  angry 
passion  is  to  check  or  inhibit  the  external  actions,  such  as 
crying  and  throwing  the  arms  about.  Since,  moreover, 
feeling  and  its  bodily  expression  are  closely  connected 
one  with  another,  it  follows  that  this  arrest  of  external  ac- 
tion will  tend  to  some  extent  to  allay  the  feeling  itself.  By 
making  an  effort  to  repress  the  signs  of  grief,  the  child 
may  succeed  in  diminishing  the  force  of  the  feeling  of 
misery  itself. 

What  the  exact  effect  of  the  restraining  of  the  external 
manifestation  of  a  feeling  will  be  in  any  given  case  de- 
pends partly  on  the  strength  of  the  feeling.  If  an  emo- 
tion, say  of  anger,  is  very  intense,  the  suppression  of  its 
external  signs  may  do  but  little  to  stifle  the  feeling  itself. 


CONTROL  OF  FEELING,  385 

The  mind  may  sulkily  indulge  its  passion  internally  by 
brooding  on  ideas  of  satisfaction.  The  result  of  such 
external  self-restraint  will  vary  too  with  the  temperament 
of  the  individual.  Children  whose  feelings  are  slow  to 
excite  and  slow  to  allay  are  specially  liable  to  this  secret 
smoldering  of  passion.  Hence  the  need  of  some  addi- 
tional means  of  restraining  feeling.  This  will  be  spoken 
of  presently. 

The  due  control  of  the  feelings  has  a  high  moral  sig- 
nificance. In  what  is  called  good-breeding  a  certain 
amount  of  emotional  self-restraint  is  involved.  The 
higher  moral  quality  of  considerateness  implies  a  wider 
and  more  vigilant  self-control,  viz.,  the  repressing  of  all 
feeling  that  would  offend  others.  Once  more,  the  moral 
quality  of  endurance  includes  the  power  to  check  the 
manifestations  of  suffering,  to  preserve  a  bodily  calm  when 
pain  agitates  the  mind. 

The  acquisition  of  the  power  of  controlling  feeling  is  a 
difficult  and  slow  process.  Children's  feelings  are  char- 
acterized by  their  great  intensity,  and  their  complete  pos- 
session and  mastery  of  the  mind.  Hence  the  effort  to 
check  the  outgoings  of  passion  is  a  severe  one.  It  is  to 
be  remembered,  too,  that  the  motives  which  prompt  to 
such  efforts  of  self-control,  e.  g.,  a  regard  for  our  own 
comfort,  and  the  sense  of  what  is  seemly  and  right,  are 
late  in  their  development.  At  the  same  time  children 
should  at  an  early  age  be  exercised  in  the  easier  tasks  of 
self-control.  Thus,  as  M.  Perez  points  out,  a  child  of  fif- 
teen months  may  be  led  to  stop  its  crying  when  addressed 
in  a  loud  voice.* 

{c)  Control  of  the  Thoughts.— The  other  great  re- 
gion calling  for  the  control  and  regulation  of  the  will  is  that 
of  the  intellectual  processes.  As  was  pointed  out  above, 
apart  from  this  control  the  child's  attention  is  drawn 
hither  and  thither  according  to  the  external  excitants 
*  Op.  cit.,  p.  108. 


386  MORAL  ACTION :  CHARACTER. 

present  at  the  moment,  and  the  succession  of  the  thoughts 
as  determined  by  the  forces  of  association.  The  control 
of  the  thoughts  involves  the  checking  and  counteracting 
of  these  tendencies,  with  a  view  to  direct  the  attention  in 
some  special  direction. 

This  control  of  the  intellectual  tendencies  involves  a 
special  effort  of  will.  The  child's  first  attempts  to  turn 
away  from  all  distractions  and  keep  his  mind  resolutely 
fixed  on  a  subject  indicate,  by  their  bodily  accompani- 
ments, e.  g.,  wrinkling  of  the  brows,  fidgety  movements, 
the  presence  of  a  painful  effort.  In  order  to  the  making 
of  this  effort  a  strong  motive  force  is  needed,  such  as  the 
fear  of  disgrace  or  the  desire  to  gain  knowledge.  The 
stronger  the  effort  required,  the  more  powerful  must  be 
the  motive. 

Throughout  the  development  of  intelligence  this  con- 
trol of  the  intellectual  forces  by  the  will  has  been  as- 
sumed. Thus  careful  and  fruitful  observation  presup- 
poses the  ability  to  keep  the  attention  concentrated  on 
one  object  for  a  time,  and  to  resist  the  natural  tendency 
of  the  mind  to  flit  from  one  object  to  another.  Again,  in 
learning  or  committing  something  to  memory,  as  also  in 
trying  to  recall  what  has  been  learned,  the  will  is  called 
into  play  in  the  form  of  a  deliberate  concentration  of  the 
mind  on  a  special  subject  or  group  of  ideas.  Finally,  in 
the  processes  of  constructive  imagination,  and  of  abstrac- 
tion and  reasoning,  this  power  of  turning  the  attention 
away  from  what  is  interesting,  and  of  resisting  the  forces 
of  suggestion,  is  called  into  exercise  in  a  yet  higher 
form. 

Different  Forms  of  Self-ControL— While  thus 
dealing  separately  with  the  control  of  impulses,  of  the 
feelings,  and  of  the  thoughts,  we  must  remember  that  they 
are  closely  connected  one  with  another.  More  particu- 
larly we  may  say  that  the  control  of  the  thoughts  is  in- 
volved in  that  of  the  feelings,  and  that  the  control  both  of 


CONTROL   OF  THE  FEELINGS.  387 

the  feelings  and  of  the  thoughts  is  involved  in  that  of  im- 
pulse and  action. 

(i)  As  has  been  observed,  every  emotion  is  excited 
by,  and  so  depends  upon,  some  mode  of  intellectual 
activity,  as  looking  at  what  is  dreadful,  or  recollecting 
some  injury.  Hence,  to  control  the  thoughts  is  one 
means  of  controlling  the  feelings.  It  was  pointed  out 
just  now  that  we  can  only  very  imperfectly  repress  feeling 
by  checking  the  accompanying  external  movements.  The 
only  efficient  way  of  reaching  and  mastering  the  force  of 
feeling  is  by  turning  the  thoughts  from  its  exciting  cause, 
and  directing  them  to  something  wholly  foreign  and  un- 
connected. A  child's  feeling  of  disappointment  is  only 
fully  controlled  when  by  an  effort  of  will  he  turns  his 
thoughts  in  some  other  direction.  The  beginnings  of 
moral  training  in  this  direction  should  aim  at  the  repres- 
sion of  feeling  by  a  withdrawal  of  the  mind  from  its  excit- 
ing cause.* 

(2)  Again,  since  feeling  and  thought  are  both  involved 
in  action,  the  perfect  control  of  the  active  impulses  in- 
cludes the  control  of  these.  Thus  the  impulse  to  do  an 
unkind  action  is  only  completely  overcome  when  the 
feeling  of  anger  out  of  which  it  springs  is  repressed,  and 
the  remembrance  of  the  injury  which  excites  the  feeling 
banished  from  the  mind.  Hence  the  importance  assigned 
by  moralists  to  the  control  of  the  desires  and  thoughts 
'*of  the  heart."  «i 

Habit  and  Conduct. — The  principle  of  habit,  the 
application  of  which  to  the  region  of  voluntary  move- 
ment has  already  been  considered,  reigns  in  the  higher 
region  of  moral  action  or  conduct  as  well.  The  processes 
of  deliberation  and  control  just  described  only  attain  to  a 

*  Dr.  Sikorski  gives  an  interesting  account  of  how  he  began  to 
habituate  an  infant  to  bear  the  discomfort  of  hunger  by  interesting  it 
in  the  details  of  the   process  of  preparing  food.    ("Revue  Philoso- 
phique,"  May,  1885,  p.  540.) 
26 


388  MORAL  ACTION :  CHARACTER, 

perfect  form  when  they  become  fixed  by  the  law  of 
habit. 

The  fundamental  fact  emphasized  by  the  word  habit 
is  that  all  actions  become  more  perfect  by  repetition. 
Just  as  bodily  movements,  at  first  tentative,  unsteady, 
and  involving  effort,  come  by  repetition  to  be  certain, 
steady,  and  easy,  so  the  higher  exercises  of  the  will  in  the 
arrest  of  impulse  and  deliberation  tend  to  grow  more  per- 
fect by  steady  pursuance. 

At  first  the  child,  when  his  action  is  arrested  by  an  ap- 
prehension of  evil  consequences,  is  apt  to  be  overpowered 
by  the  contending  impulses,  and  is  incapable  of  decision. 
But  after  he  has  once  made  a  serious  effort  to  end  the 
state  of  conflict,  and  decided  to  act  according  to  reason, 
he  has  taken  an  important  step  in  moral  development. 
The  next  time  a  collision  occurs  reflection  and  decision 
will  be  easier.  The  vehement  forces  of  impulse  will  have 
been  reined  in  to  some  extent.  Every  new  exercise  of 
the  power  makes  the  pause,  the  consideration,  the  final 
calm  decision  a  less  arduous  exertion.  The  whole  pro- 
cess grows  smoother,  involving  less  and  less  of  the  friction 
of  effort,  till  as  a  final  result  reflection  and  deliberate 
choice  become  easy  and  natural. 

Moral  Habits. — The  same  principle  of  habit  has  fur- 
ther and  yet  more  striking  results  in  the  region  of  moral 
action.  The  subordination  of  a  lower  impulse  to  a  higher 
motive,  which  at  the  outset  involves  a  painful  effort  of 
arrest  and  reflection,  tends  by  repetition  of  the  exertion 
to  grow  less  and  less  diflicult  and  irksome.  Thus  each, 
restraint  of  greed  from  a  consideration  of  its  evil  effects, 
or  of  selfish  propensity  for  the  sake  of  others*  good,  tends 
to  fix  action  in  this  particular  line.  That  is  to  say,  the 
higher  moral  force  gains  ground  as  a  ruling  disposition, 
and  encounters  less  and  less  resistance.  The  outcome  of 
this  process  of  growth  is  a  perfect  moral  or  virtuous  habit, 
which  implies  a  firm  disposition  to  seek  a  definite  species 


FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER.  389 

of  good,  as  health,  and  in  its  more  intelligent  form  a  will- 
ing adoption  of  a  general  principle  or  maxim  of  conduct, 
as  "  Obey  the  laws  of  health." 

The  conditions  of  the  formation  of  habits  already 
pointed  out  have  to  be  satisfied  here.  The  initial  effort 
must  be  secured  by  a  strength  of  motive  sufficient  to  over- 
come the  difficulty  of  the  action  and  the  disinclination  to 
what  is  irksome.  In  the  second  place,  there  must  be 
perseverance  and  an  uninterrupted  following  up  of  the 
first  success  till  the  principle  of  habit  fixes  the  moral 
acquisition.  And  in  order  to  this  the  will  must  not 
in  the  early  stages  be  exposed  to  too  powerful  a  tempta- 
tion. 

Character. — The  term  character  is  often  used  loosely 
to  denote  individual  peculiarities  of  mind,  whether  intel- 
lectual or  moral,  and  whether  showing  themselves  at  the 
outset  as  strongly-marked  innate  tendencies,  or  later  as 
the  result  of  experience  and  education.  In  a  narrower 
and  more  accurate  sense  it  signifies  the  acquired  results  of 
individual  volitional  exertion,  such  as  intelligence,  insight, 
independence,  and  firmness  of  will. 

Since  moral  attainments,  viz.,  good  dispositions  and 
habits,  are  the  most  valuable  result  of  such  volitional  ex- 
ertion, the  term  character  has  come  in  ethical  and  educa- 
tional works  to  denote  in  a  special  way  a  good  or  virtuous 
disposition  of  the  feelings  and  of  the  will.  A  person  of 
character  in  this  sense  is  one  who  can  be  counted  on  in 
general  to  decide  and  act  wisely  and  rightly.^ 

This  moral  or  virtuous  character  is  the  resultant  of  the 
several  forms  of  self-control  carried  to  the  point  of  perfect 
habits.  Thus  a  perfect  moral  character  includes  the  fa- 
miliar habits  involved  in  a  wise  pursuit  of  individual  good, 
such  as  industry,  ord  :rliness,  temperance,  the  habitual 
control  of  the  feelings  or  moderation,  and  the  firm  con- 
trol of  the  thoughts  involved  in  reasonableness.  It  in- 
cludes further  the  habits  implied  in  a  perfect  fulfillment 


390  MORAL  ACTION :   CHARACTER. 

of  human  duty,  as  obedience,  courtesy,  veracity,  justice, 
and  beneficence. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  moral  character  is  a  bundle 
of  habits,  such  as  is  here  roughly  sketched  out.  This  is 
an  important  definition  of  moral  character,  since  it  brings 
out  the  essential  ingredient  of  fixity  of  disposition  in  right 
directions.  At  the  same  time  it  must  not  be  thought  that 
a  perfect  character  shows  itself  in  a  habitual  and  quasi- 
mechanical  pursuance  of  a  number  of  detached  ends  or 
forms  of  good.  Self-control  aims,  as  we  have  seen,  at  co- 
ordinating and  harmonizing  the  several  desires  and  ends 
one  with  another,  subordinating  them  to  some  supreme 
end  or  ideal  of  good  ;  and  a  perfect  character  includes  a 
disposition  to  reflect  and  deliberate  when  occasion  re- 
quires, e.  g.,  where  there  is  an  apparent  conflict  of  duties, 
in  order  to  determine  what  is  the  more  worthy  form  of 
good,  and  where  the  path  of  duty  exactly  lies.* 

External  Control  of  the  Will. — So  far  we  have 
assumed  that  the  child's  will  develops  spontaneously  with- 
out any  direct  control  and  direction  from  without.  It  is 
evident,  however,  that  the  acquisition  of  the  power  of 
reflection  and  of  the  moral  habits  is  greatly  furthered  by 
the  action  of  others,  and  especially  those  who  exercise 
authority  over  the  child.  As  we  saw  in  tracing  the  growth 
of  the  moral  sentiment,  the  influence  of  authority  and 
moral  discipline  is  a  necessary  condition  in  the  formation 
of  that  sense  of  duty,  the  supremacy  of  which  marks  the 
highest  stage  of  self-control.  A  mere  glance,  moreover,  at 
the  circumstances  of  early  life  tells  us  that  the  actions  of 
the  child  are  regulated  and  determined  to  a  considerable 
extent  by  the  wishes  and  commands  of  others.  This  fact 
is  recognized   in   the   saying  that   the  first  stage  in  the 

*  "Virtue  can  never  become  a  sum  of  habits,  and  for  this  plain 
reason  :  there  is  not  a  single  good  habit  except  the  habit  of  being  good 
(i.  e.,  of  a  good  will)  that  may  not  conflict  with  real  duty  at  some  point 
or  other."    (Mrs.  Bryant.) 


NATURE  OF  MORAL  DISCIPLINE, 


391 


development  of  moral  habits  is  the  learning  of  obedi- 
ence. 

The  training  of  the  child's  will  by  the  moral  educator 
proceeds  partly  by  way  of  the  restraints  of  authority  and 
command,  and  partly  by  way  of  suasion,  advice,  and  en- 
lightenment. 

Authority  and  Obedience. — The  action  and  effect 
of  moral  discipline  presuppose  the  existence  of  some 
authority.  The  discipline  of  early  life  is  dependent  on 
the  fact  that  the  parent  or  other  guardian  of  the  child  is 
invested  with  certain  powers  of  government.  By  these 
are  meant  the  power  to  lay  down  commands,  and  to  sup- 
port and  enforce  these  by  the  sanctions  of  punishment. 
By  so  doing  he  can  require  the  performance  of  certain 
actions,  such  as  those  involved  in  industry,  orderliness, 
etc.,  and  also  prohibit  other  actions  which  he  holds  to  be 
undesirable,  as  acts  of  rudeness  and  personal  violence. 

While  moral  discipline  is  thus  based  on  the  power  to 
enforce  obedience  by  punishment,  it  must  be  carefully 
distinguished  from  external  compulsion.  The  physical 
coercion  exercised  by  the  slave-owner  or  the  brutal  parent 
is  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  moral  force  at  all.  The  threat 
of  immediate  physical  suffering  of  an  intense  kind  pro- 
duces the  agitation  of  terror,  which  paralyzes  the  will.  A 
mechanical  compliance  follows  under  the  overwhelming 
force  of  dread,  but  this  is  not  conscious  and  willing  obedi- 
ence to  authority.* 

Once  more,  the  relation  of  authority  to  obedience 
can  not  be  said  to  exist  where  commands  are  laid  down 
in  such  a  way  that  the  subject  is  able  to  coolly  balance 
the  pleasures  and  pains  of  disobedience,  just  as  he  would 
balance  those  of  a  strictly  private  and  personal  act.  In 
such  a  case  the  will  is  undoubtedly  called  into  play  in  the 

*  See  what  Locke  says  on  the  effect  of  corporal  punishment  and 
"slavish  discipline"  in  breeding  a  "slavish  temper."  "On  Educa- 
tion," §§  5o»  51- 


392  MORAL  ACTION:   CHARACTER, 

processes  of  deliberation  and  choice.  But  the  effect  is 
not  strictly  a  moral  effect. 

True  obedience  to  authority  rests  on  an  acknowledge- 
ment on  the  part  of  the  governed  of  the  moral,  as  well  as 
the  physical,  superiority  of  the  governor.  Only  where 
there  is  this  feeling  can  there  be  an  act  of  self-control 
properly  so-called,  that  is,  a  conscious  subordination  of  a 
lower  impulse  to  a  higher  principle  of  action.  This  atti- 
tude of  self-submission  to  authority  presupposes,  on  the 
one  side,  the  position  and  qualities  fitted  to  call  forth  re- 
spect, and,  on  the  other,  a  disposition  to  reverence  and 
bow  to  mental  and  moral  superiority. 

In  the  case  of  young  children  this  sense  of  authority 
is  partly  instinctive,  partly  the  result  of  an  apprehension 
of  a  special  relation  of  dependence  on  the  parent  or  other 
guardian,  and  partly  the  product  of  the  daily  experience 
of  his  wisdom  and  goodness.  The  effect  of  custom  and 
special  association  with  a  person  in  developing  this  feeling 
is  seen  in  the  familiar  fact  that  a  child  that  is  habitually 
submissive  to  his  parent  or  nurse  will  violently  resent  the 
assumption  of  authority  by  a  stranger.* 

While  in  its  earlier  forms  the  respect  for  authority 
which  prompts  to  obedience  is  largely  a  feeling  for  a  per- 
son, it  gradually  becomes  a  more  intelligent  appreciation 
of  the  moral  function  of  the  ruler  as  the  representative 
and  upholder  of  the  impersonal  moral  law,^^ 

The  Ends  and  Grounds  of  Early  Discipline.— 
It  is  commonly  allowed  that  children  are  the  proper  sub- 
jects of  authority  and  command.  Their  ignorance  and 
incapacity  to  decide  about  things  necessitates  the  laying 
down  of  certain  commands  by  those  who  have  charge  of 
them.  These  commands  have  as  one  of  their  ends  to  pre- 
serve the  child  from  the  evil  effects  of  his  ignorance  and 
want  of  foresight.     The  commands  of  the  nursery,  as  not 

*  For  an  illustration  see  Perez,  "  The  First  Three  Years  of  Child- 
hood," p.  291. 


METHODS  OF  EARLY  DISCIPLINE.         393 

to  play  with  the  candle,  and  so  forth,  aim  at  warding  off 
physical  harm.  That  such  prohibitions  are  necessary  will 
be  generally  allowed.  To  leave  children  altogether  to  the 
"discipline  of  consequences,"  in  the  shape  of  Nature's 
penalties  for  violating  her  laws,  would  be  too  dangerous 
an  experiment  for  an  affectionate  parent  to  undertake. 
And  even  later  on,  the  child  needs  to  be  guarded  against 
physical  evils,  e.  g.,  those  resulting  from  overindulgence 
in  the  pleasures  of  the  table. 

But  the  institution  of  early  discipline  has  other  ends 
and  uses.  As  moral  training  it  aims  at  leading  action  into 
right  or  virtuous  channels,  in  building  up  good  moral 
habits,  and  forming  the  character. 

That  some  external  control  of  the  child's  action  by 
discipline  and  restraint  is  necessary  for  moral  purposes, 
will  probably  be  conceded.  The  most  optimistic  view  of 
childish  nature  must  recognize  the  existence  of  natural 
impulses,  e.  g.,  greediness  and  covetousness,  which  require 
firm  restraining.  Nor  can  it  be  safely  contended  that  the 
natural  consequences  of  wrong  actions  in  the  loss  of  the 
parent's  society  and  confidence  can  be  counted  on  in  the 
first  years  of  life  to  deter  from  such  actions.  And  even 
were  such  natural  penalties  sufficient  to  deter  the  child, 
they  would  not  tend  to  develop  a  truly  moral  disposition 
toward  right  conduct.  As  already  pointed  out,  an  indis- 
pensable step  in  the  formation  of  a  sense  of  duty  is  the 
assertion  and  exercise  of  authority  over  the  child,  the 
making  him  feel  that  there  is  a  higher  will  over  his  which 
he  has  to  obey. 

It  may  be  safely  contended  that  obedience,  in  the  sense 
already  defined,  is  in  itself  a  moral  habit,  forming  indeed 
one  chief  virtue  of  childhood.  A  readiness  to  repress 
personal  desire,  in  deference  to  a  command  that  is  felt  to 
be  authoritative,  can  only  be  acquired  by  a  certain 
amount  of  effort  of  will  and  reflection  on  the  true  value  of 
things. 


394  MORAL  ACTION:  CHARACTER, 

Nevertheless,  it  is  a  common  and  fatal  error  to  regard 
obedience  to  personal  authority  as  an  end  in  itself.  The 
ingredient  in  childish  obedience  which  constitutes  it  a 
moral  exercise  is  the  dim  apprehension  of  the  reasonable- 
ness and  moral  obligatoriness  of  what  is  laid  down.  And 
the  ultimate  end  of  moral  discipline  is  to  strengthen  this 
feeling,  and  so  transfer  the  sentiment  of  submission  from 
a  person  to  a  law  which  that  person  represents  and  em- 
bodies. It  is  only  when  this  finer  and  higher  obedience 
to  law  or  principle  is  reached  that  authority  can  be  said 
to  have  done  its  work.  Commands  are  a  scaffolding  which 
performs  a  necessary  temporary  function  in  the  building 
up  of  a  self-sufficient  habit  of  right  conduct. 

Conditions  of  Moral  Discipline. — By  a  moral  dis- 
cipline we  mean  a  system  of  moral  rules,  properly  laid 
down,  understood,  and  enforced.  The  first  condition  of 
such  a  system  is  the  imposition  of  general  commands  or 
rules  for  acting.  The  exercise  of  authority  in  prohibiting 
isolated  actions  is  not  discipline.  A  mother  who  says 
"  Don't  do  that,"  and  who  visits  this  and  that  particular 
action  with  a  slap  or  a  "  Naughty  child  !  "  without  making 
clear  what  it  is  in  the  action  that  is  prohibited,  is  not  a 
moral  ruler  at  all.  A  ruler  is  an  imposer  of  general  rules, 
which  direct  the  subject  how  to  act  in  a  certain  class  of 
cases. 

In  order  that  a  rule  may  be  operative  it  must  satisfy 
one  or  two  main  conditions,  (a)  It  must  refer  to  an  action 
that  the  child  may  reasonably  be  expected  to  be  able  to 
perform,  and  that  the  ruler  is  sure  of  being  able  to  exact. 
Thus,  as  Miss  Edgeworth  remarks,  prohibitions,  e.  g., 
'*  Do  not  touch  the  lamp,"  are  more  easily  enforced  than 
positive  requirements,  as,  "  Stand  up."  ^  (^)  The  rule 
must  be  intelligible.  If,  for  example,  a  child  is  told  not  to 
tell  stories,  without  having  a  clear  idea  what  this  means, 
it  can  not  produce  any  moral  effect,  (c)  It  must  be  uni- 
formly enforced.     Only  so  will  the  necessary  strength  of 


THE  MISUSE  OF  RULES,  395 

association  between  action  and  penalty  be  produced. 
When  a  rule  is  deviated  from,  the  child  can  not  feel  its 
sovereign  authority  as  a  moral  command,  and  is  moreover 
disposed  to  decide  to  obey  or  disobey  by  a  process  of 
purely  prudential  calculation.  These  conditions  are  es- 
sential to  the  formation  of  a  habit  of  perfect  and  unhesi- 
tating obedience.* 

As  already  pointed  out,  a  fixed  moral  habit  needs  a 
firm  application  of  a  sufficient  strength  of  motive  at  the 
outset,  and  a  constant  following  up  of  the  requirement. 
Hence  the  importance  of  laying  down  the  command  in 
the  most  impressive  and  authoritative  manner,  and  seeing 
that  it  is  never  disobeyed  in  any  single  case. 

Since  the  learning  of  obedience  to  any  rule  is  a  matter 
of  time,  it  is  of  the  greatest  consequence  not  to  lay  down 
too  many  at  once.  *'  I  have  seen,"  says  Locke,  "  Parents 
so  heap  Rules  on  their  Children,  that  it  was  impossible  for 
the  poor  little  Ones  to  remember  a  tenth  Part  of  them, 
much  less  to  observe  them." 

Punishment. — As  already  observed,  authority  and 
command  presuppose  the  power  to  punish.  By  punish- 
ment is  meant  the  intentional  and  deliberate  infliction  of 
pain  of  some  sort  by  one  invested  with  authority,  and  as 
a  consequence  of  an  act  of  disobedience. 

It  follows  from  this  definition  that  a  natural  consequence  of  an 
action,  e.  g.,  a  fall  resulting  from  a  forbidden  act  of  climbing  a  ladder, 
is  not  punishment.  Nor  is  all  suffering  that  issues  from  the  person  in 
authority  punishment.  Thus  the  natural  loss  of  confidence  and  affec- 
tion that  follows  a  discovery  of  a  child's  falsehood  is  not,  strictly  speak- 
ing, punishment.  Still  less  is  any  outburst  of  spiteful  retaliation  at  the 
personal  annoyance  arising  from  a  child's  disobedience.  "  It  is,"  says 
Waitz,  "the  first  condition  of  the  proper  effect  of  punishment  that  it 
should  be  apprehended  and  felt  by  the  child  as  punishment." 

*  To  this  it  may  be  added  that  the  rule  should,  so  far  as  possible, 
be  recommended  as  reasonable  and  necessary,  so  as  to  prevent  its  being 
viewed  as  a  capricious  and  vexatious  restriction. 


396  MORAL  ACTION :  CHARACTER. 

It  has  already  been  implied  that  punishment,  actual 
or  potential,  is  necessarily  implied  in  any  system  of  moral 
discipline.  Punishment  has  two  chief  ends :  (a)  the  cor- 
rection and  improvement  of  the  individual  offender,  and 
(^)  the  instruction  and  benefit  of  others  by  way  of  example 
and  warning.  These  ends  are  not  always  equally  promi- 
nent. In  the  penalties  inflicted  by  the  magistrate  the 
deterring  effect  on  others  is  the  chief  thing  considered. 
With  the  educator  of  the  young  the  reformation  of  the 
individual  is  the  first  and  supreme  consideration.  In  the 
home  this  is  the  chief  thing  aimed  at,  though  effect  on 
others  is  not  wholly  lost  sight  of.  And  in  the  school  this 
last  consideration  becomes  more  distinct,  without,  how- 
ever, becoming  the  ruling  consideration,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  State. 

At  the  same  time  it  is  evident  that  punishment  by  in- 
flicting pain  on  the  child  is  in  itself  an  evil.  Hence  it  is 
generally  acknowledged  that  it  can  only  be  justified  when 
it  is  necessary  for  the  realization  of  the  ends  for  the  sake 
of  which  it  is  instituted. 

The  evils  of  punishment  from  an  educator's  point  of  view  are  nu- 
merous and  serious,  (i)  It  is  a  form  of  suffering,  and  so  opposed  to 
the  humane  purposes  of  education.  (2)  It  tends  to  estrange  educator 
and  learner,  and  to  render  the  latter  indisposed  to  ally  himself  in  sym- 
pathy and  co-operation  with  the  former.  (3)  By  acting  through  the 
instinctive  fear  of  pain  it  has  no  stimulative  force  in  it  beyond  the 
point  exacted.  In  this  way  it  is  immeasurably  inferior  in  its  action  to 
pleasurable  motives,  as  the  wish  to  please,  or  the  love  of  study.  These 
objections  apply  to  all  punishments  alike.  To  this  must  be  added  that 
certain  forms  of  punishment  are  apt  to  produce  bad  moral  effects  by 
overhumiliating  and  degrading  the  child. 

There  are  certain  plain  limits  to  the  use  of  punish- 
ment. Thus  it  ought  not  to  be  resorted  to  when  through 
weakness  of  will  a  child  is  incapable  of  doing  a  thing. 
The  object  of  punishment,  so  far  as  corrective  of  the 
delinquent,  is  to  supply  a  new  moral  force  which  may 
suffice  to  counteract  a  natural  inclination  to  wrong-doing, 


CARE  REQUIRED  IN  PUNISHMENT.        397 

And  if  the  punishment  does  not  supply  such  a  force, 
through  feebleness  of  will,  it  is  useless  and  therefore  cruel. 
Thus  to  punish  a  child  overpowered  by  grief  for  not  in- 
stantly controlling  its  feelings  is  barbarous.  Again,  no 
action  is  a  proper  subject  for  punishment  which  is  not 
clearly  wrong  in  its  intention.  Hence  to  punish  a  child 
for  breaking  something  through  an  ordinary  childish  care- 
lessness is  immoral. 

Proportioning  of  Punishment. — Not  only  does  it 
need  much  care  to  determine  what  cases  are  meet  for 
punishment,  it  requires  much  consideration  to  fix  rightly 
the  amount  of  punishment  in  particular  cases.  Here  a 
number  of  considerations  have  to  be  taken  into  account. 
Thus,  so  far  as  the  punishment  is  intended  to  deter  others, 
regard  must  be  had  to  the  degree  of  harmfulness  of  the 
action,  and  of  the  moral  turpitude  it  implies,  also  to  the 
secrecy  of  the  wrong  action,  and  the  consequent  difficulty 
of  detecting  it.  And,  so  far  as  it  aims  at  correcting  the 
wrong-doer  himself,  the  punishment  must  be  determined 
by  a  careful  reference  to  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  so 
far  as  aggravating  or  mitigating  the  offense,  and  also  to 
the  known  sensibilities  and  moral  character  of  the  child, 
so  that  enough  and  not  more  than  enough  supplementary 
force  may  be  applied  to  correct  the  wrong  action.* 

It  follows  that  the  moral  educator  can  not  make  known 
beforehand,  except  in  general  terms,  the  precise  amount 
of  punishment  that  will  be  incurred  by  a  given  class  of 
offense.  Nor  is  this  desirable.  On  the  contrary,  a  pre- 
cise foreknowledge  of  the  amount  of  suffering  would  favor 
that  prudential  estimation  of  the  evil  of  punishment  which 
it  is  one  chief  concern  of  the  educator  to  avoid. 

*  Dettes  distinguishes  between  the  problem  of  dealing  with  wrong 
actions  that  are  done  clandestinely  in  order  to  evade  punishment,  and 
that  of  handling  acts  of  open  defiance  ("  Erziehungs-  und  Unterrichts- 
lehre,"  p.  183).  On  the  proper  proportioning  of  punishment  to  offense, 
consult  Waitz  {pp.  cit.y  p.  179,  etc). 


398  MORAL  ACTION :  CHARACTER, 

While  judgment  and  insight  are  thus  needed  to  fix  the 
amount  of  punishment  in  any  case,  they  are  further  re- 
quired for  determining  the  most  appropriate  kinds  of  pun- 
ishment. Here  it  is  important  to  choose  some  mode  of 
pain  which,  in  the  first  place,  is  little  affected  by  individual 
differences  of  sensibility,  so  that  it  can  be  administered 
justly  in  the  case  of  all  children  alike  ;  and,  secondly, 
which  easily  lends  itself  to  quantitative  estimation  and 
gradation,  so  that  it  may  be  varied  in  quantity  according 
to  the  circumstances.  To  these  prime  considerations  may 
be  added  that  that  mode  of  punishment  is  to  be  preferred 
which  is  in  its  nature  appropriate  to  the  offense,  or,  as 
Bentham  has  it,  "  characteristical,"  e.  g.,  confinement  dur- 
ing play  hours  for  previous  neglect  of  work.* 

Reward,  Encouragement. — Punishment,  being  a 
mode  of  pain,  deters  from  action  rather  than  excites  to 
activity.  Even  where  it  is  employed  as  a  stimulus  to 
action,  as  when  a  child  is  punished  for  not  preparing  his 
lesson,  its  depressing  influence  is  still  seen.  The  little 
delinquent  feels  himself  forced  to  be  industrious,  and  his 
activity  is  in  consequence  put  forth  without  heartiness, 
and  even  grudgingly.  Moreover,  as  a  mode  of  pain,  the 
fear  of  punishment,  though  undoubtedly  a  potent  motive, 
has  only  a  restricted  range.  As  soon  as  the  exacted  quan- 
tity of  task-work  is  done,  the  pressure  of  the  motive  ceases. 

Moral  discipline  includes  not  only  the  checking  of 
impulse  by  deterrents,  but  the  stimulating  of  activity  by 
positive  inducements.  That  is  to  say,  it  makes  use  not 
merely  of  the  child's  natural  aversion  to  pain,  but  of  his 
equally  natural  and  more  far-reaching  desire  for  pleasure. 
It  may  be  a  question  how  far  such  artificial  stimuli  are 
necessary  or  desirable.  Where  it  is  possible  it  is  no  doubt 
well  for  a  child  to  be  industrious,  good,  and  so  on,  for  the 
sake  of  others*  good  opinion  and  love.     But  the  weakness 

*  On  the  rule  given  by  Bentham  for  proportioning  punishment  to 
offense,  see  Bain,  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  p.  io6,  note. 


THE  DANGERS  OF  REWARDS. 


399 


of  the  social  feelings  in  children  makes  some  amount  of 
artificial  stimulation  necessary  in  the  early  stages  of  moral 
training. 

In  administering  rewards  much  caution  is  needed  if 
moral  development  is  not  to  be  retarded  instead  of  being 
advanced.  To  begin  with,  nothing  is  worse  than  bribing 
a  child  to  do  a  thing  which  he  ought  to  be  required  to  do 
by  a  sense  of  duty  or,  if  need  be,  a  fear  of  punishment. 
To  promise  a  child  something,  for  instance,  if  he  will  stop 
crying  or  if  he  will  speak  the  truth  is  demoralizing.* 

The  main  condition  of  the  moral  efficacy  of  a  reward 
is  that  it  is  conferred  on  merit,  that  is,  as  the  result  of 
some  exercise  of  virtue  over  and  above  what  can  be  right- 
fully insisted  on  as  obligatory.  The  more  clearly  it  is 
made  evident  that  the  reward  is  thus  a  recognition  of  a 
genuinely  virtuous  act,  the  more  powerful  its  effect.  It 
follows  that  the  word  of  praise  or  the  tangible  recompense 
should  not  appear  to  the  child  to  be  the  mere  outcome  of 
personal  affection  and  tenderness  on  the  rewarder's  side, 
but  as  the  authoritative  acknowledgment  of  desert. 

It  follows  from  this  definition  of  the  aim  and  function 
of  rewards  that  they  ought  not  to  be  too  frequently  be- 
stowed. A  frequent  and  lavish  bestowment  of  rewards  is 
fatal  to  the  association  in  the  child*s  mind  of  recompense 
with  real  merit.  It  favors  the  view  that  he  has  a  right  to 
the  reward,  t 

Judged  by  their  moral  effects,  some  kinds  of  reward 
are  superior  to  others.  Gifts  and  material  rewards  gener- 
ally, by  appealing  to  children's  lower  feelings,  have  a  much 
smaller  moral  value  than  praise  or   commendation,  that 

*  As  Waitz  observes,  rewards  are  in  certain  respects. more  dangerous 
to  morality  than  punishments  ;  for  these  at  most  produce  fear  of  evil, 
while  those  make  the  positive  stimulus  of  desire  for  pleasure  the  mo- 
tive to  duty  {op.  nty  p.  185). 

f  As  Waitz  observes,  it  is  well  sometimes  to  reward  a  child  unex- 
pectedly, and  not  to  let  him  count  on  a  definite  reward  beforehand. 


400  MORAL  ACTION :   CHARACTER. 

gratifies  the  higher  feelings,  love  of  approbation  and  affec- 
tion. It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  rewards,  like  pun- 
ishments, must  be  graduated  to  the  degrees  of  merit,  and 
as  far  as  possible  made  appropriate  to  the  nature  of  the 
virtuous  act. 

Where,  as  in  the  school,  rewards  are  given  as  prizes  for 
successful  competition  with  others  in  intellectual  pursuits, 
the  moral  effect  becomes  very  much  circumscribed.  As 
already  pointed  out,  the  impulse  of  rivalry  tends  to  be 
anti-social,  and  the  eager  competition  for  prizes  has  a 
baneful  rather  than  a  beneficial  effect  on  the  moral  charac- 
ter. 

Since  the  moral  effect  of  reward  depends  on  its  being 
recognized  as  the  fruit  of  virtuous  exertion,  school  rewards 
can  only  have  such  effect  when  they  are  conferred  not  on 
the  ground  of  absolute  attainment,  which  is  largely  deter- 
mined by  natural  superiority,  but  on  that  of  individual 
progress.  To  give  a  prize  to  a  clever  boy  is  not,  strictly 
speaking,  an  act  of  moral  discipline  at  all.  On  the  other 
hand,  to  reward  a  boy  for  special  exertion  comes  under 
that  category,  since  it  distinctly  recognizes  the  moral  ele- 
ment in  intellectual  industry.* 

Development  of  Free-will. — As  already  pointed 
out,  the  aim  of  discipline  is  to  build  up  independent  vir- 
tuous habits.  Hence  punishments  and  rewards  should 
always  be  used  sparingly,  and  only  as  a  temporary  means 
of  fixing  good  habits.  As  the  child  grows  and  is  able  to 
comprehend  the  intrinsic  reasonableness  of  the  commands 
laid  down,  he  should  be  appealed  to  as  a  free  agent  able 
to  choose  the  better.  Only  in  this  way  can  moral  discipline 
be  made  a  means  of  developing  the  power  of  deliberate 
reflection  and  choice,  self-control,  and  moral  character. 

The  parent  and  teacher  must  be  on  their  guard  against 
an  overgovernment  and  overcontrol  of  the  child's  actions. 

*  On  the  considerations  applicable  to  rewards,  see  Locke,  op.  cit^ 
§§  52,  53  ;  Bain,  op.  cit.,^.  112,  and  following. 


CHARACTER  A   COMPLEX  RESULT.         401 

The  power  of  intelligent  choice  of  what  is  good  can  only 
be  exercised  when  a  margin  of  free  activity  is  secured  to 
the  child  from  the  first.  The  child's  own  region  of  spon- 
taneous activity  or  play  must  be  respected.  And  as  the 
intelligence  expands  he  must  be  invited  and  encouraged 
to  reflect  for  himself  as  to  what  is  best  for  his  happiness 
and  usefulness.  External  control  may  easily  be  carried  to 
excess,  not  only  by  an  exaggerated  view  of  the  disciplina- 
rian's function,  but  also  by  that  eagerness  to  influence  and 
sway  another's  actions  which  springs  out  of  weak  affection 
and  a  parental  habit.  The  formation  of  character  requires 
other  influences  besides  that  of  the  educator  :  the  collis- 
ions of  the  individual  with  external  circumstances  and  the 
lessons  of  experience.  The  teaching  of  Rousseau,  Mr. 
Spencer,  and  others,  as  to  the  importance  of  making  the 
young  early  acquainted,  by  personal  contact  and  experi- 
ence, with  the  laws  of  the  physical  and  the  social  world, 
forms  a  valuable  part  of  a  sound  theory  of  moral  educa- 
tion. \^ven  advice  is  erroneously  proffered  in  cases  where 
it  is  perfectly  safe  for  a  child  to  be  allowed  to  discover 
the  folly  or  wisdom  of  a  course  for  himself.  In  the  moral 
as  in  the  intellectual  region  it  is  indisputable  that  the 
child's  faculty  is  far  more  effectually  exercised  when  he 
discovers  a  truth  for  himself  than  when  he  is  merely 
taught  it.^^ 

Discipline  of  the  Home  and  of  the  School.— The 
home  may  be  called  the  nursery-garden  of  moral  charac- 
ter. If  the  will  and  moral  character  are  not  nourished 
and  strengthened  here,  they  will  fare  but  ill  when  trans- 
planted to  the  bleaker  surroundings  of  school-life.  In  the 
home  the  whole  of  the  child's  life  is  in  a  manner  brought 
under  the  supervision  of  the  educator.  Not  only  so,  the 
strong  and  close  affection  which  grows  up  between  the 
parent  and  child  gives  a  unique  character  to  the  home 
discipline.  On  the  one  side,  the  mother  is  solicitous  about 
her  charge  as  the  teacher  can  not  be,  and  is  far  better 


402  MORAL  ACTION:   CHARACTER. 

able  as  well  as  much  more  strongly  disposed  to  study  his 
moral  peculiarities.  On  the  other  side,  the  child's  feeling 
of  dependence  and  his  gratitude  and  love  are  strong  forces 
tending  from  the  first  in  the  direction  of  obedience. 
Here,  then,  the  foundations  of  character  have  to  be  laid  if 
they  are  to  be  laid  at  all.  The  relations  of  home,  more- 
over, serve  to  bring  out  and  exercise  all  the  moral  habits, 
not  only  the  rougher  virtues  of  obedience,  veracity,  the 
sense  of  right  and  justice,  etc.,  but  the  more  delicate  vir- 
tues of  sympathy,  kindliness,  and  self-sacrifice. 

Contrasted  with  this,  the  discipline  of  the  school  has 
but  a  very  restricted  moral  effect.  The  immediate  object 
of  school  discipline  is  indeed  not  moral  training  at  all,  but 
rather  the  carrying  on  of  the  special  business  of  the 
school,  namely,  teaching.  Incidentally  the  management 
of  a  school  necessarily  does  subserve  moral  education, 
calling  forth  habits  of  obedience,  orderliness,  industry, 
deference,  etc.  And  the  teacher  is  expected  to  make  the 
best  of  his  opportunities  for  training  the  will  and  forming 
the  character  of  his  pupils.  The  limitations  here  are  ob- 
vious. The  first  is  the  restricted  range  of  life  brought 
under  the  master's  control.  School  occupations  are  a 
kind  of  artificial  addition  to  the  child's  natural  life,  and 
offer  but  little  scope  for  the  play  of  individual  feelings 
and  motives.  Again,  since  the  teacher  has  to  do  with 
numbers,  there  must  necessarily  be  wanting  the  aid  of 
those  moral  forces  of  close  individual  sympathy  and  strong 
personal  attachment  which  play  so  important  a  part  in 
home  discipline. 

These  defects  are,  however,  made  good  to  some  extent 
by  the  presence  of  a  new  agency  in  the  school,  namely, 
that  of  public  opinion.  We  have  already  glanced  at  the 
effect  of  this  in  shaping  and  giving  strength  to  the  grow- 
ing moral  sentiment  of  the  individual.  To  this  must  now 
be  added  that  the  public  opinion  of  a  school,  when  rightly 
directed  and  serving  to  support  morality,  is  a  potent  factor 


DISCIPLINE  OF   THE  HOME  AND  SCHOOL,  403 

in  early  education.  In  early  life  the  pressure  of  a  mass  of 
unanimous  sentiment,  and  the  influence  of  custom  show- 
ing itself  on  a  wide  scale,  are  needed  to  supplement  the 
work  of  parental  and  tutorial  discipline.  For  the  average 
child  the  reign  of  custom  and  law  in  a  public  school  has  a 
stimulating  and  invigorating  effect.  Respect  for  law,  the 
sense  of  honor,  and  a  manly  self-reliance  are  nourished 
and  strengthened.  The  influence  only  becomes  injurious 
when  it  favors  a  perverted  idea  of  duty  and  a  false  senti- 
ment of  honor ;  or  when,  ceasing  to  recognize  its  proper 
limits,  and  growing  excessive  and  arbitrary,  it  tends  to 
crush  individuality. 

APPENDIX. 
On  discipline  and  the  formation  of  character,  see  Locke,  "  On  Edu- 
cation," especially  §§  32-117  ;  Miss  Edgeworth,  "  Practical  Educa- 
tion," chap,  ix  ;  Mme.  Necker,  "  L'Education,"  livre  i,  chap,  iv-vi ; 
and  livre  vi,  chap,  iv  ;  H.  Spencer,  "  Education,"  chap,  iii  ;  Bain, 
"  Education  as  Science,"  pp.  icx>-ii9  ;  Beneke,  "  Erziehungs-  und 
Unterrichtslehre,"  Kap.  2,  "  Gemiiths-  und  Charakterbildung  "  ;  Waitz, 
"  Allgemeine  Paedagogik,"  §§  11-15,  pp.  140-213  ;  Dittes,  "  Grundriss 
der  Erziehungs-  und  Unterrichtslehre,"  5.  Abschnitt. 


27 


APPENDIX   A. 

PERIODS  OF  DEVELOPMENT, 

In  tracing  out  successively  the  several  directions  of 
mental  development,  we  run  the  risk  of  overlooking  the 
nature  of  the  actual  process,  viz.,  the  unfolding  and  ex- 
pansion of  the  mind  as  a  whole.  Concrete  mental  devel- 
opment is  at  once  an  intellectual,  an  emotional,  and  a 
volitional  progress,  in  which  each  factor  acts  upon  and  is 
acted  upon  by  the  others.  Hence  it  is  desirable  to  sup- 
plement the  analytic  and  abstract  treatment  of  mental  de- 
velopment, which  proceeds  by  dealing  separately  with 
intelligence,  feeling,  and  will,  by  a  concrete  treatment 
which  aims  at  marking  the  successive  stages  of  the  mental 
History. 

'  The  perfect  carrying  out  of  this  supplementary  method 
would  yield  a  record  of  successive  periods  of  mental 
growth,  which  are  clearly  marked  off  one  from  another 
by  certain  dominant  characteristics,  physical  and  psychi- 
cal. A  careful  sketch  of  each  of  these  periods,  with  all 
the  characteristic  changes  which  distinguish  it  from  pre- 
ceding stages,  would  supply  a  valuable  addition  to  the 
theory  of  mental  development.  Such  a  concrete  and  de- 
scriptive treatment  of  the  subject  would,  moveover,  be  of 
special  value  to  the  educator,  who  is  called  on  to  deal  with 
minds  at  a  particular  stage  in  their  history,  and  who  con- 
sequently needs   to  know  the  special  psychical  features 


406  APPENDIX  A. 

the  relative  strength  of  different  capacities,  impulses,  etc., 
which  distinguish  the  age. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  therefore,  that  writers  on 
education  have  adopted  this  mode  of  tracing  the  complex 
movements  of  mental  growth.  Thus  Beneke,  in  the  work 
referred  to,  distinguishes  between  four  periods  :  (i)  To 
about  the  end  of  the  third  year,  in  which  the  conscious- 
ness of  self  and  not-self  gradually  unfolds,  and  which  is 
characterized  by  the  predominance  of  the  outer  sense-life, 
including  instinct.  (2)  To  about  the  end  of  the  seventh 
year,  in  which  the  inner  mental  activity  gradually  develops 
itself  to  the  point  of  equilibrium  with  the  receptive  func- 
tions of  sense,  and  which  is  characterized  by  the  rise  of 
the  representative  element  as  seen  both  in  the  greater 
depth  of  the  precepts  and  in  the  growing  activity  of  mem- 
ory and  imagination,  and  also  by  the  gradual  displacement 
of  instinctive  impulse  by  conscious  design.  (3)  To  about 
the  end  of  the  fourteenth  year,  in  which  the  inner  self- 
activity  becomes  free  from  the  bonds  of  sense  and  acquires 
a  preponderance,  first  and  chiefly  as  imaginative  activity, 
then  as  a  tendency  to  abstract  reflection  or  thought.  {4) 
To  the  close  of  school-life,  in  which  the  higher  mental 
powers  are  more  fully  developed,  and  which  forms  a  tran- 
sition to  the  period  of  independent,  intellectual,  and  moral 
activity. 

A  more  careful  and  elaborate  division  of  the  mental 
life  into  periods  is  attempted  by  Pfisterer,  in  the  work  on 
pedagogic  psychology,  already  referred  to  :  (i)  Accord- 
ing to  this  plan  the  first  period  is  marked  off"  as  the  suck- 
ling age  (to  end  of  first  year),  in  which  the  bodily  life  and 
sense  are  in  the  ascendant,  and  instinct  takes  the  place  of 
will.  (2)  Next  comes  the  age  of  childhood,  from  the  sec- 
ond to  the  seventh  year,  which  is  regarded  as  the  begin- 
ning of  the  school  period.  Here  there  manifests  itself  a 
germ  of  self-consciousness,  though  the  outer  world  is  still 
engrossing.     Curiosity  shows  itself  in  its  lowest  form  as  a 


PERIODS  OF  DEVELOPMENT.  407 

desire  for  novelty.  Memory  and  imagination  are  active, 
and  the  rudimentary  stage  of  abstract  thouglit  or  concep- 
tion is  reached.  Activity  is  abundant  under  the  form  of 
free,  aimless  play.  The  disposition  to  respect  authority 
and  to  form  habits  of  obedience  now  shows  itself,  assum- 
ing, toward  the  close  of  the  period,  something  of  the  aspect 
of  a  willing,  reflective  submission  to  moral  rules.  Feeling 
now  loses  something  of  its  first  violence,  and  is  being  or- 
ganized into  permanent  dispositions  (Stimmungen).  ~  (3) 
After  this  follows  the  period  of  boyhood  and  girlhood, 
from  the  seventh  to  about  the  fourteenth  year.  This  con- 
stitutes the  period  of  elementary  school  instruction.  It 
is  marked  by  a  clearer  exhibition  of  individual  peculiari- 
ties. The  intellectual  processes  gain  in  steadiness  under 
the  control  of  a  stronger  will-power.  Hence  there  becomes 
possible  the  more  orderly  constructive  activity  involved  in 
learning,  as  well  as  the  methodical  formation  of  abstract 
ideas.  A  growing  habit  of  self-control  now  asserts  itself. 
The  progress  of  intellectual  and  volitional  capacity  leads 
to  the  development  of  independent  judgment,  free  choice, 
and  self-reliance.  Finally,  this  period  is  characterized  by 
the  development  of  new  feelings,  viz.,  the  social,  intellect- 
ual, and  aesthetic  sentiments.  (4)  The  period  of  youth, 
forming  the  interval  between  the  school  period  and  man- 
hood, and  supplying  the  transition  to  perfect  independ- 
ence and  self-reliance  in  thought,  feeling,  and  action,  is  only 
briefly  glanced  at. 

It  is  to  be  added  that  these  divisions  of  early  mental 
development  into  periods,  though  useful  as  a  rough  index 
to  the  mental  characteristics  of  a  given  age,  are  not  to  be 
regarded  as  having  sharply  defined  boundaries.  Mental 
development  is  throughout  one  smooth,  continuous  move- 
ment, not  a  succession  of  discrete  movements  or  separate 
springs.  An  approximation  to  a  definite  boundary-mark 
is  supplied  at  one  or  two  points  of  the  road.  Of  these  the 
first  is  the  well-marked  termination  of  the  helplessness  of 


408  APPENDIX  A. 

infancy  by  the  development  of  the  muscular  system,  bring- 
ing (at  about  the  same  date)  the  power  of  seif-feeding, 
locomotion,  and  speech.  This  development  of  muscular 
power  brings  a  vast  extension  of  the  field  of  observation 
and  knowledge,  as  well  as  of  that  of  voluntary  action. 
Another  date,  hardly  less  epoch-making,  is  the  attainment 
of  puberty,  a  point  of  development  in  which  certain  physi- 
cal changes,  bringing  with  them  new  instincts,  are  apt  to 
affect  profoundly  the  intensity  and  the  range  of  the  emo- 
tional life  as  a  whole,  and  along  with  this  to  exert  a  marked 
influence  on  the  directions  of  intellectual  activity  and  of 
conduct.* 

*  As  pointed  out  by  M.  Compayre  (**  Histoire  Crit.  des  Doctrines 
de  I'Ed.  en  France,"  ii,  p.  41),  Rousseau,  in  treating  the  child  up  to 
twelve  as  non-rational,  fell  into  the  error  of  marking  off  too  sharply 
successive  j>eriods  of  development.  According  to  Sir  J.  Crichton 
Browne,  the  course  of  physical  development  can  be  divided  into 
periods  of  seven  years  by  help  of  the  following  epochal  changes :  i, 
primary  dentition  (ist  year) ;  2,  secondary  dentition  (7th  year)  ;  3, 
puberty  (14th  year)  ;  and,  4,  maturity  (?  addition  of  wisdom  teeth) 
(21st  year).     See  "  Book  of  Health,"  p.  319,  and  following. 


APPENDIX   B. 

MEASUREMENT  OF  FACULTY, 

One  of  the  most  hopeful  developments  of  modern  psy- 
chology is  the  attempt  to  reach  an  exact  quantitative  esti- 
mation of  mental  processes.  This  introduction  of  a  more 
exact  mode  of  measurement  of  mental  phenomena  is  likely 
to  have  important  practical  effects  on  the  theory  of  edu- 
cation. 

The  teacher  may  undertake  a  systematic  measurement 
of  the  faculties  of  his  pupils  for  one  of  two  reasons,  (i) 
For  one  thing,  a  collection  of  comparative  measurements 
is  greatly  needed  as  a  statistical  basis  in  building  up  a 
more  exact  psychology  of  childhood.  Thus  the  theory  of 
mental  development,  which  aims  at  fixing  with  some  ap- 
proach to  precision  the  date  at  which  certain  faculties 
begin  to  acquire  strength,  and  the  rapidity  of  the  pro- 
cesses of  development,  would  be  rendered  more  definite 
and  certain  by  a  body  of  methodical  records  of  mental 
progress  carried  out  by  teachers. 

One  branch  of  the  science  of  education,  very  imper- 
fectly developed  at  present,  and  likely  to  receive  consid- 
erable aid  from  such  a  systematic  collection  of  measure- 
ments, is  the  influence  of  sex  on  mind.  Much  that  has 
been  written  on  this  subject,  being  the  result  of  the  obser- 
vations of  many  generations,  has  a  certain  empirical  value, 
such  as  the  common  attribution  to  girls  of  greater  sensi- 


410  APPENDIX  B. 

bility,  a  tendency  to  the  concrete  rather  than  the  abstract, 
as  well  as  a  greater  rapidity  of  mental  development.* 
Nevertheless,  these  generalizations  are  wanting  in  scien- 
tific exactness  and  certainty,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
deductions  drawn  from  physiological  facts  stand  in  sore 
need  of  a  careful  verification.  The  pressing  problem  of 
modern  education,  how  far  it  is  well  to  subject  the  minds 
of  boys  and  of  girls  to  the  same  amount  and  kind  of  edu- 
cational stimulus,  requires  for  its  solution  the  assistance 
not  only  of  physiological  truths,  which  are  undoubtedly 
of  great  value  here,  but  of  psychological  facts.  A  body 
of  carefully  prepared  statistics  on  the  comparative  mental 
capabilities  of  children  of  both  sexes,  and  their  relative 
rapidity  of  development,  is  urgently  needed  just  now. 

(2)  While  a  systematic  measurement  of  children's  fac- 
ulties is  thus  of  great  consequence  for  perfecting  the  theo- 
retic basis  of  education,  it  is  of  hardly  less  importance  in 
carrying  out  efficiently  the  practical  work  of  teaching. 
The  success  of  school  or  class  teaching  depends,  to  a  large 
extent,  on  a  good  arrangement  of  individuals  according 
to  their  special  powers  and  correlative  tastes.  Every  such 
classification  presupposes  some  more  or  less  exact  esti- 
mate of  the  individual  child's  capabilities  by  oral  exami- 
nation or  otherwise.  But  ordinary  educational  tests  of 
capacity  are  apt,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  to  be  rough 
and  precarious.  They  are  wanting  in  scientific  aim  and 
in  scientific  method.  They  aim  at  best  at  a  rough  valua- 
tion of  so  highly  complex  a  product  as  "  general  intelli- 
gence," instead  of  at  a  precise  measurement  of  the  root- 
elements  of  mental  capacity. 

What  is  wanted  for  a  fruitful  carrying  out  of  such 
measurements  is  psychological  guidance  as  to  the  funda- 
mental constituents  of  mental  power,  and  the  way  in 
which  these  vary.     Such  variations,   being  known  to  be 

*  Pfisterer  sums  up  the  commonly  recognized  points  of  sexual  dif" 
ference.     "  Paed.  Psychologie,"  Kap.  3,  §  23. 


MEASUREMENT  OF  FACULTY.  411 

correlated  with  nervous  differences,  should  be  expressed 
in  terms  of  mental  and  nervous  capacity.  The  old  doc- 
trine of  individual  temperaments,  and  the  newer  theory  of 
phrenology,  each  of  which  sought  to  supply  a  scientific 
principle  of  classification,  have  now  become  discredited. 
And  more  recent  attempts  to  find  a  substitute  for  these 
can  hardly  be  said  to  be  satisfactory.  Thus  the  mode  of 
distinguishing  individual  aptitude  common  among  Ger- 
man writers  on  pedagogy,  viz  ,  according  to  the  degree 
of  sensibility  to  stimulus,  vivacity  or  rapidity  of  the  mental 
processes,  and  strength  and  tenacity  of  impression,  though 
suggestive  and  valuable,  is  obviously  imperfect.*  With- 
out attempting  here  to  propose  a  fully-developed  scheme 
of  mental  measurement,  I  would  point  out  the  lines  which 
such  a  scheme  should  follow. 

A  truly  scientific  and  systematic  measurement  of  men- 
tal power  should  set  out  with  a  detailed  examination  of 
the  senses.  And  here  modern  science  comes  to  the  teach- 
er's aid  both  in  ascertaining  the  several  modes  of  vari- 
ation of  sense-capacity,  and  in  selecting  the  best  way  of 
measuring  these.  The  important  conception  of  a  thresh- 
old or  lower  limit  of  capacity  serves  at  once  to  give  pre- 
cision to  the  investigation.  Thus  the  most  valuable  intel- 
lectual element  in  sense-capacity,  viz.,  discriminative 
power,  can  be  exactly  tested  by  determining  the  smallest 
difference  of  degree  or  quality  that  can  be  detected  by 
the  child.  Although  the  perfect  carrying  out  of  a  system- 
atic examination  of  discriminative  capacity  in  the  case 
of  all  the  senses  necessitates  carefully  prepared  apparatus, 
a  good  deal  may  be  done  by  means  of  quite  simple  prepa- 
rations. Thus  the  limits  of  color-discrimination  may  be 
determined  by  ascertaining  the  finest  perceptible  differ- 
ences of  shade  of  a  graduated  series  of  blues,  greens,  etc.f 

*  This  threefold  distinction  is  given  by  Beneke  and  adopted  by 
Dittes. 

f  Mr.  Galton's  way  of  testing  color,  explained  in  his  "  Life-History 


412  APPENDIX  B. 

In  a  similar  way  the  discrimination  of  form- elements  might 
be  tested  by  noting  what  is  the  smallest  deviation  from 
perfect  straightness  in  a  line  that  is  defective. 

The  investigation  of  sense-capacity  should  be  complete, 
embracing  the  muscular  sense  as  entering  into  the  apprecia- 
tion of  weight,  etc.  And  along  with  discriminative  sensi- 
bility should  be  measured  absolute  sensibility.  Here 
again  the  idea  of  a  threshold  is  available.  Thus  Mr.  Gal- 
ton  proposes,  for  testing  the  absolute  sensibility  of  the  ear 
to  sound,  the  simple  expedient  of  estimating  the  greatest 
distance  at  which  the  ticking  of  a  watch  can  be  heard. 
And,  lastly,  as  bearing  on  the  emotional  or  pleasure-and- 
pain  side  of  the  senses,  the  child's  sense-organs  should  be 
tested  as  to  the  strength  of  stimulus,  e.  g.,  light  or  sound, 
which  begins  to  be  disagreeable  and  fatiguing. 

Next  to  a  systematic  testing  of  sensibility  and,  along 
with  this,  of  muscular  capacity,  the  educator  should  go  on 
to  estimate  differences  in  the  power  of  attention.  Thus 
precision  and  rapidity  of  adjustment  in  attention,  an  all- 
important  quality  in  the  capacity  of  learning  readily,  might 
be  tested  by  aid  of  giving  some  momentary  signal,  the 
nature  and  exact  time  of  which  are  not  known  beforehand, 
e.  g.,  an  indeterminate  letter  of  the  alphabet  articulated 
faintly  or  exhibited  to  the  eye  for  a  second,  and  noting  the 
relative  degrees  of  certainty  in  seeing  the  signal.  Along 
with  this,  another  no  less  valuable  quality  of  attention, 
range  or  grasp,  may  easily  be  tested,  e.  g.,  by  determining 
the  greatest  number  of  consecutive  sounds,  as  letters  or 
digits,  that  can  be  held  together  by  the  mind,  so  as  to 
be  repeated  or  written  down  on  a  single  hearing,  or 
the  largest  number  of  letters  that  can  be  seen  by  a  mo- 
mentary exhibition  to  the  eye  of  a  miscellaneous  group 
of  such. 

Album"  (Macmillan  &  Co.),  by  asking  a  person  to  pick  out  all  the 
greens  among  a  series  of  delicately  tinted  wools,  involves  not  only  dis- 
crimination but  assimilation. 


MEASUREMENT  OF  FACULTY. 


413 


The  grasp  of  attention  has  recently  been  tested  by  Mn  Jacobs  and 
Mrs.  Bryant  in  the  case  of  a  number  of  boys  and  girls.  The  method 
employed  was  to  give  out  a  series  of  nonsense  syllables,  or  of  names  of 
digits,  and  ask  the  pupil  to  repeat  the  same  or  write  it  down.  The 
largest  number  that  could  thus  be  reproduced  after  a  single  hearing 
is  said  to  determine  the  "  Span  of  Prehension."  The  results  so  far 
gained  suggest  that  this  power  varies  pretty  uniformly  with  the  degree 
of  general  intelligence,  being  considerably  greater  in  the  case  of  normal 
children  than  in  that  of  imbeciles,  and  rising  with  the  position  in 
school.  It  is  not  improbable,  therefore,  that  this  test  may  prove  to  be 
a  particularly  serviceable  one  to  the  teacher.* 

Closely  connected  with  this  power  of  grasping  a  num- 
ber of  impressions  is  the  aptitude  known  as  quickness  or 
keenness  of  observation.  In  an  interesting  paper  on  the 
"  Condition  of  Pupil,"  read  some  years  ago  before  the 
Education  Society,  Mr.  Lake  proposed  that  this  faculty 
might  be  tested  by  bringing  children  for  a  moment  or  two 
into  an  unfamiliar  room,  bidding  them  note  as  much  as 
they  can,  and  immediately  afterward  setting  them  to  write 
down  all  they  have  observed.! 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  quality  of  reten- 
tiveness  is  one  which  specially  needs  to  be  measured  by 
the  teacher,  and  this,  like  discrimination,  in  all  its  special 
manifestations.  And  here  again  an  approach  to  scientific 
precision  is  possible  by  making  use  of  a  limit.  Thus  chil- 
dren might  be  tested  as  to  the  number  of  repetitions  of 
lines  necessary  to  retaining  them  both  for  a  shorter  and 
for  a  longer  period.  \     In  a  series  of  examinations  of  this 

*  For  an  account  of  these  experiments,  see  "Mind,"  January,  1887 
("  Experiments  on  Prehension  "). 

f  Such  an  exercise,  as  lias  been  pointed  out  by  Mrs.  Biyant,  may  be 
used  to  test  not  only  rapidity  and  grasp  of  mind,  but  readiness  in  the 
imaginative  interpretation  of  impressions  which  form  so  important  a 
constituent  in  the  faculty  of  observation,  and  also  the  strength  and  in- 
fluence of  the  feelings  in  disposing  the  mind  to  a  vague,  emotional  way 
of  regarding  things. 

X  Mr.  Lake  proposed  that  series  of  names  and  connected  words  be 
read  out  three  times  by  the  master,  and  others  read  by  the  pupil  three 
times,  and  then  written  down,  and  the  number  of  errors  counted. 


414 


APPENDIX  B. 


kind  it  might  be  ascertained  in  what  special  directions  a 
child's  mind  was  retentive,  and  what  modes  of  association 
(e.  g.,  order  in  time  and  order  in  space)  were  most  easily 
acquired. 

In  connection  with  retentiveness,  imaginative  power,  as 
shown  in  the  distinctness  and  fullness  of  images  of  familiar 
objects  and  scenes,  should  be  tested.  Mr.  Galton's  in- 
quiries into  the  powers  of  individuals  of  "  visualizing  "  ob- 
jects might  easily  be  made  the  starting-point  in  such  an 
investigation  of  children's  faculty.* 

Lastly,  reference  may  be  made  to  that  intellectual 
function  which  forms  the  essential  element  in  the  general- 
izing faculty,  viz.,  the  detection  of  similarity  amid  diver- 
sity. This  is  best  tested  by  getting  a  child  to  compare  a 
number  of  objects  simultaneously  presented  to  the  eye. 
Thus  Mr.  Lake  has  suggested  that  groups  of  letters  agree- 
ing in  certain  respects,  e.  g.,  thickness  of  line,  degree  of 
blackness,  should  be  submitted  to  the  pupil  with  a  view 
to  his  discovering  in  what  respects  they  agree.  Here,  it 
is  evident,  the  sense  of  difference  as  well  as  that  of  like- 
ness will  be  appealed  to,  and  it  is  very  important  to  note 
the  pupil's  relative  quickness  in  noting  the  one  and  the 
other.f 

This  much  may  suffice  to  show  that  a  sound  scientific 
method  of  testing  the  strength  of  children's  intellectual 
faculties  has  now  become  possible.  It  is  greatly  to  be 
wished  that  by  the  co-operation  of  teachers  and  psycholo- 
gists a  definite  scheme  of  measuring  faculty  may  soon  be 
developed. 

*  Mr.  Galton's  method  is  explained  in  his  work,  "  Inquiries  into 
Human  Faculty,"  p.  83,  and  following. 

f  I  have  attempted  to  frame  a  definite  line  of  investigation  into 
the  strength  of  the  comparing  faculty  in  an  article  on  "  Comparison." 
••  Mind,"  October,  1885. 


APPENDIX   C. 

METHOD  IN  TEACHING. 

The  term  method  is  somewhat  ambiguous  and  requires 
precise  definition.  In  its  widest  sense  it  means  the  con- 
scious direction  of  a  series  of  active  operations  toward  some 
desired  result  according  to  a  preconceived  plan  and  by  the  aid 
of  gemral  rules  or  principles.  A  methodical  process  thus 
contrasts  {a)  with  a  mechanical  (unconscious),  as  also 
with  a  hap-hazard  (undesigned)  operation,  and  {h)  with  an 
empirical  or  traditional  mode  of  securing  some  practical 
end,  which  has  not  been  reflected  upon  and  grounded  on 
general  principles.  It  is  essential  to  the  idea  of  a  method 
that  it  have  universal  validity  ;  that  is  to  say,  that  it  be 
applicable  in  all  similar  circumstances. 

In  a  special  logical  sense  method  denotes  an  orderly- 
arrangement  of  our  ideas  so  as  to  exhibit  their  logical 
connections,  whether  for  our  own  clearer  understanding 
or  for  the  better  instruction  of  others. 

The  use  of  the  term  method  in  education  is  based 
partly  on  the  wider,  partly  on  the  narrower,  meaning. 
Thus  in  a  large  sense  method  in  education  means  the  dis- 
posing and  arranging  of  different  parts  of  our  work  so  as 
to  best  secure  the  true  end  of  education.  In  this  com- 
prehensive <?ense  method  presupposes  a  clear  apprehension 
of  the  educational  end,  and  of  the  relations  of  the  several 
agencies  employed  to  this  end,  both  separately  and  col- 


4i6  APPENDIX  C. 

lectively,  i.  e.,  as  parts  of  an  organic  plan  or  system  of 
agencies. 

As  thus  defined,  method  in  education  is  determined 
by  two  main  factors :  {a)  the  nature  of  the  end,  (^)  the 
nature  of  our  appliances. 

It  is  obvious,  in  the  first  place,  that  since  a  method 
aims  at  the  attainment  of  an  end,  it  will  be  affected  by 
our  conception  of  this  end.  Thus  an  "  Informationist," 
as  distinguished  from  an  "  Educationist,"  who  regarded  it 
as  the  sole  business  of  the  teacher  to  impart  a  certain 
quantity  of  useful  knowledge  to  his  pupils,  would  neces- 
sarily be  led  to  elaborate  a  plan  or  method  of  instruction 
on  these  lines. 

In  the  second  place,  our  method  will  be  determined, 
not  only  by  our  conception  of  what  we  want  to  do,  but 
by  that  of  what  we  can  do,  and  more  particularly  of  the 
nature  and  properties  of  the  instruments  at  our  disposal. 
Here  the  constitution  of  the  child  comes  in  for  the  first 
consideration.  Our  principles  of  method  have  to  con- 
form themselves  to  the  laws  of  the  child's  being,  physical, 
intellectual,  and  moral.  In  addition  to  the  nature  and 
constitution  of  the  learner,  we  have  to  take  into  account 
the  properties  of  the  agents  we  employ,  as  subjects  of  in- 
struction, and  accommodate  our  methods  to  these. 

While  the  term  method  may  thus  be  employed  with 
respect  to  the  whole  work  of  education,  it  is  commonly 
confined  to  the  processes  of  intellectual  instruction.  The 
reason  seems  to  be  that  these  lend  themselves  much  more 
easily  than  the  other  branches  of  education  to  formal 
regulation.  And  this  circumstance,  in  its  turn,  is  ex- 
plained by  saying  that  each  of  the  determining  factors  is 
in  this  part  of  education  well  defined  and  manifest.  For, 
in  the  first  place,  the  intellectual  activities  engaged  in 
learning  are  of  all  the  mental  activities  the  most  easily 
reduced  to  a  general  form,  and  subsumed  under  general 
laws.     Secondly — and  this  is  of  equal  if  not  of  greater 


METHOD  IN   TEACHING.  417 

importance — the  subject-matter  of  intellectual  instruc- 
tion, systematized  knowledge,  science,  has  its  inherent  and 
unalterable  logical  relations  which  dictate  a  particular 
order  of  proceeding  in  presenting  the  subject  to  the 
learner  (the  elementary  and  fundamental  before  the  ad- 
vanced and  derivative).  Lastly,  teaching,  by  employing 
as  its  proper  instrument  an  organized  elaborated  language, 
has  its  method  of  procedure  to  some  extent  definitely  de- 
termined by  this  circumstance. 

A  word  or  two  may  be  added  on  each  of  these,  which 
we  may  distinguish  as  the  psychological,  the  logical,  and 
the  linguistic  factor  in  the  method  of  teaching. 

{a)  The  whole  process  of  instruction  is  primarily  de- 
termined by  the  condition  and  powers  of  the  child's  mind, 
and  the  essential  forms  of  its  activity.  And  it  is  these 
psychological  considerations  which  underlie  the  best  cur- 
rent maxims  of  method,  (i)  Thus  it  is  the  first  condition 
of  sound  teaching  that  it  awakens  the  self-activity  of  the 
learner's  mind  by  exciting  interest  and  curiosity,  lead- 
ing it  to  think  for  itself  (by  questioning,  and  so  forth). 
(2)  Again,  since  the  child  starts  with  sense-presentations, 
the  direction  of  instruction  must  in  general  be  from  the 
concrete  to  the  abstract.  (3)  Once  more  it  may  be  said 
that  the  intellectual  process  of  acquiring  knowledge  con- 
sists in  general  in  taking  a  whole  (e.  g.,  a  sensible  object) 
vaguely  apprehended,  then  by  analysis  resolving  this  into 
its  parts,  and  from  a  clear  detailed  knowledge  of  these 
parts  building  up  by  synthesis  a  definite  and  complete 
cognition.  Accordingly,  the  method  of  instruction  should 
in  general  be  preparatory  analysis  followed  by  synthesis 
or  orderly  construction  of  a  whole  out  of  its  parts.  (4)  All 
advance  in  knowledge  takes  place  by  an  elaboration  of 
pre-existing  intellectual  material ;  otherwise  expressed, 
every  new  acquisition  is  an  organic  process  of  growth, 
new  structural  parts  being  formed  or  accreting  about  the 
pre-existent  as  a  nucleus  by  what  is  known  as  intellectual 


41 8  APPENDIX  C. 

assimilation  (or  apperception).  Hence  the  universality  of 
the  rule  "  From  the  known  to  the  unknown  "  (e.  g.,  from 
the  seen  to  the  imagined,  a  familiar  case  to  an  analogous 
one,  concrete  observations  to  general  notions  and  judg- 
ments). 

Two  additional  rules  of  method  follow  also  from  a 
consideration  of  mental  processes.  (5)  Since  faculty 
grows  in  amplitude  of  movement,  the  order  of  presenta- 
tion must  be  from  simple  to  complex  facts,  ideas,  and 
truths.  (6)  Since  all  clear  knowledge  is  the  result  of  a 
prolonged  process  involving  critical  reflection,  we  should 
at  first  be  satisfied  with  vague  cognitions,  and  try  to  make 
these  more  definite  as  we  advance. 

These  rules,  it  may  be  added,  apply  both  to  the  learn- 
ing of  a  particular  subject  considered  separately,  and  to 
the  acquisition  of  the  whole  sum  of  knowledge,  or  the 
curriculum  of  subjects. 

{b)  Logical  considerations,  as  distinct  from  psycho- 
logical, have  to  do  with  the  relations  of  the  different  parts 
of  a  subject  (and  of  the  several  subjects  of  the  curric- 
ulum). Here  the  point  of  view  is  different.  We  no 
longer  consider  the  child  as  it  is,  what  it  knows  at  the 
outset,  and  how  its  mind  can  move  forward  from  that 
starting-point ;  but  we  suppose  the  whole  body  of  knowl- 
edge to  be  attained,  and  then  ask  ourselves  what  is  the 
best  order  in  which  to  arrange  its  several  parts  so  as  to 
exhibit  it  as  a  connected  organized  system.  As  pointed 
out  before,  such  logical  arrangement  may  aim  at  a  clearer 
and  firmer  grasp  of  the  whole  by  ourselves,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  famous  rules  of  method  drawn  up  by  Descartes,* 
or  at  the  better  instruction  of  others.  In  the  latter  case, 
it  helps  to  fix  the  method  of  teaching.  The  teacher  is 
here  supposed  to  be  complete  master  of  the  subject,  and 
to  be  able  to  develop  it  in  a  correct  logical  manner. 

Such  a  logical  arrangement  of  the  matter  of  instruc- 

*  See  Jevons's  "  Elementary  Lessons  in  Logic/'  xiii. 


METHOD  IN   TEACHING. 


419 


tion  must  of  course  conform  to  psychological  require- 
ments to  this  extent,  that  it  enables  the  mind  of  the 
learner  to  advance  step  by  step  from  one  cognition  or 
group  of  cognitions  to  another. 

At  the  same  time  the  two  requirements,  the  logical 
and  the  psychological,  are  not  identical.  It  has  com- 
monly been  held  that  the  ideal  logical  arrangement  is  the 
setting  out  with  elements  (simple  ideas,  self-evident  truths), 
and  the  systematic  development  of  the  whole  complex 
body  of  knowledge  out  of  this  by  synthetic  construction. 
This  mode  of  procedure  conforms  to  psychological  con- 
ditions in  a  sense,  since  it  means  an  advance  from  simple 
to  complex  cognitions.  On  the  other  hand,  it  evidently 
tells  us  to  set  out,  not  with  the  concrete,  but  with  the 
abstract  ;  for  all  the  elementary  notions  of  science — e.  g., 
animal,  force,  verb — are  the  result  of  long  and  often  diffi- 
cult processes  of  abstraction.* 

The  logical  arrangement  must  no  doubt  be  set  up  by 
the  teacher  as  the  ideal  toward  which  he  works  in  pro- 
portion as  the  child's  intellectual  powers  develop.  But  it 
can  not  be  attempted  at  the  outset.  The  elements  re- 
quired as  the  foundation  of  a  subject  are  not  known  to 
the  child,  but  must  be  reached  by  a  preliminary  process 
of  analysis  carried  out  on  those  sense-intuitions  which  are 
the  first  form  of  cognition  reached  by  the  child.  In  other 
words  observation,  comparison,  classification,  induction, 
must  precede  the  definition  of  the  class  or  notion,  and 
the  statement  of  the  law  or  principle.  Not  only  so,  in 
the  earlier  stages  of  instruction,  the  educator  must  not 
aim  at  once  at  scientific  accuracy,  but  be  satisfied  to  ap- 
proach this  gradually  through  stages  of  imperfect  and 
crude  conception.  To  this  extent,  then,  the  so-called 
method  of  instruction  must  be  modified  by  being  brought 

*  The  student  should  note  that,  as  applied  to  knowledge,  the  sim- 
ple coincides  with  the  abstract,  the  complex  with  the  concrete.  We 
simplify  our  knowledge  by  generalizing,  and  so  reducing  it  to  unity. 

28 


420 


APPENDIX  C. 


nearer  the  method  of  discovery ;  yet  so  as  never  to  be- 
come altogether  the  method  of  discovery  since  it  is  con- 
trolled by  a  logical  ideal.* 

(r.)  The  third  factor,  the  nature  and  requirements  of 
language,  is  important  mainly  in  that  it  compels  us  through- 
out the  teaching  process  to  introduce  an  abstract  element. 
As  shown  above,  even  in  dealing  with  concrete  facts  pre- 
sented to  the  child's  imagination,  we  have  to  describe  by 
means  of  a  system  of  general  symbols.  To  this  extent, 
then,  the  psychological  requirement,  the  concrete  our 
starting-point,  has  to  be  still  further  modified  in  educa- 
tional practice.  At  the  same  time  the  psychological  rule 
is  not  set  aside,  for,  as  we  have  seen,  the  child  imagines 
a  new  object  by  help  of  sensible  objects  actually  ob- 
served.! 

It  seems  to  follow  that  our  method  of  teaching  must 
be  a  compromise  ;  our  goal  is  precise  scientific  definition, 
logical  arrangement,  systematic  exposition  ;  and  as  regards 
sequence  of  subjects,  gradual  progress  from  the  more 
simple  and  fundamental  to  the  complex  and  derivative. 
Yet  just  because  we  have  to  do  with  unformed  minds  we 
can  not  in  practice  realize  this  ideal,  though  we  should 
certainly  approach  to  it  as  we  advance. 

It  is  evident  from  what  has  been  said  that  the  current 
maxims  of  educational  method  can  not  be  pressed  as  hard 
and  fast  rules,  knowing  no  exception  or  qualification.  In 
some  cases,  indeed,  they  are  manifestly  contradictory  in  a 
measure  (e.  g.,  from  the  simple  to  the  complex,  and  from 
the  concrete  to  the  abstract).  And  when  this  is  not  the 
case,  a  rule  may  have  to  be  qualified  by  consideration  of 

*  The  contrast  in  point  of  view  here  touched  on  was  indicated  by 
the  older  logicians  under  the  distinction  "  better  known  in  nature  " 
{notiora  naturce),  and  "  better  known  to  us "  {nobis  notiord).  See 
Jevons's  *'  Elementary  Lessons  in  Logic,"  p.  204. 

f  The  conditions  imposed  by  language  are  touched  on  by  W.  H. 
Payne,  "  Contributions  to  the  Science  of  Education,"  p.  77. 


METHOD  IN   TEACHING, 


421 


the  special  conditions  of  teaching.  Thus,  though  it  is  a 
general  rule  of  great  value  that  we  should  proceed  from 
the  known  to  the  unknown,  this  does  not  mean  that  the 
teacher,  with  his  superior  knowledge  and  able  to  command 
the  resources  of  language,  should  never  begin  by  intro- 
ducing the  unknown. 

The  combination  of  psychological  and  logical  principles 
leads  to  another  maxim  of  teaching,  from  the  empirical  to 
the  rational.  In  the  early  stages  the  child's  mind  should 
be  occupied  mainly  about  facts,  and  the  more  obvious 
empirical  generalizations  reached  by  comparing  these. 
Then  should  come  the  scientific  or  rational  stage  in  which 
the  empirical  generalization  is  explained.  Thus  a  child 
should  first  note  the  fact  that  numbers  ending  in  5  are 
divisible  by  5,  that  the  great  seats  of  commerce  are  situ- 
ated on  rivers,  before  he  is  taken  on  to  account  for  these, 
or  deduce  them  from  more  general  principles.*  In  this 
way  the  learner's  mind  not  only  moves  from  concrete 
to  abstract,  but  back  again  from  abstract  to  concrete, 
bringing, back  with  it  ever  clearer  and  fuller  knowledge. 

It  may  be  observed  that  there  is  a  tendency  in  educa- 
tional writings  to  multiply  distinctions  of  method.  Thus 
we  read  not  only  of  the  broad  distinctions,  as  analysis 
and  synthesis,  but  of  a  dogmatic,  a  heuristic,  a  question- 
ing, and  even  a  lecturing  method. f  Here  it  is  obvious 
the  term  no  longer  refers  to  the  most  general  forms  of  the 
learning,  and  consequently  of  the  teaching  process,  but  to 
particular  modes  of  procedure  or  devices.  The  general 
principles  of  method  are  fixed  and  admit  of  no  variation ; 
the  particular  practical  devices  by  which  it  is  sought  to 
carry  these  out  are  variable. 

*  This  combination  of  induction  and  deduction,  so  valuable  in 
teaching,  is  known  to  logicians  as  the  "  deductive  "  or  the  "  complete  " 
method.     See  "  Jevons's  Elementary  Lessons  in  Logic,"  xxx. 

\  See  Tait,  "  Philosophy  of  Education,"  p.  23  ;  Compayre,  "  Cours 
de  Pedagogic,"  part  ii,  le9on  i. 


422  APPENDIX  C. 

Much  the  same  relation-obtains  between  the  rules  of 
method  as  here  understood  and  the  methods  peculiar  to 
the  different  subjects  of  instruction.  The  best  way  to 
teach  the  alphabet,  geography,  and  so  on,  is  determined 
in  part  by  general  principles  of  method.  But  it  is  also  de- 
termined in  part  by  the  pecularities  of  the  subject,  and 
the  particular  appliances  obtainable.  Here,  then,  also  we 
have  to  distinguish  the  fixed  fundamentle  principle  from 
its  particular  and  variable  application.* 

*  On  method  in  teaching,  see  H.  Spencer,  "Education,"  chap,  ii ; 
Bain,  "  Education  as  Science,"  chap,  vi  and  vii ;  Payne,  •*  Contributions 
to  the  Science  of  Education,"  chap,  v ;  Compayre,  "  Cours  de  Peda- 
gogic," part  ii,  le9on  i ;  T.  Ziller,  "  Vorlesungen  iiber  Allgem.  Paed.," 
p.  212,  etc.  ;  and  Article,  "  Methode,"  in  Schmid's  "  Paed.  Hand- 
buch." 


NOTES 


a  P.  12.  On  the  scope  and  aim  of  education  and  its  special  rela- 
tion to  psychology,  the  student  may  consult :  Prof.  W.  H.  Payne's 
*'  Contributions  to  the  Science  of  Education,"  chap,  ii ;  G.  Compayre's 
"  Cours  de  Pedagogic,"  le9on  i ;  Mrs.  Bryant's  "  Educational  Ends," 
Introduction  ;  Beneke's  "  Erziehungs  und  Unterrichtslehre,"  §§  4 
and  5  ;  and  the  article  *'  Seelenlehre  "  in  Schmid's  "  Padagogisches 
Handbuch." 

1  P.  26.  The  subordination  of  all  intellectual  processes  to  action 
or  conduct  is  recognized  by  ancient  and  modern  authorities.  Aristotle 
says  the  end  of  our  study  is  not  knowledge  but  conduct,  or,  as  Auguste 
Comte  puts  it,  "  Savoir  pour  prevoir  afin  de  pouvoir."  (See  Lloyd 
Morgan,  "Springs  of  Conduct,"  p.  214.) 

2  P.  54.  Compare  what  was  said  above,  chap,  iii,  especially  p.  36 
and  following.  According  to  Sir  J.  Crichton  Browne,  brain-growth 
shows  itself  in  (i)  increase  of  size  ;  (2)  change  of  quality  (change  of 
chemical  substance)  ;  (3)  elaboration  of  structure,  which  grows  more 
complex  through  formation  of  nervous  connections  ;  (4)  differentiation 
of  distinct  organs,  and  the  co-ordination  of  these  in  a  balanced  system  ; 
and  (5)  in  the  establishment  of  functional  habits.  (See  "  Book  of 
Health,"  p.  283,  etc.) 

3  P.  62.  The  force  of  the  innate  element  in  the  case  of  strong 
minds  is  illustrated  in  the  fact  of  the  striking  difference  between  John 
Stuart  Mill  and  his  father,  in  spite  of  the  latter's  unusually  close  and 
severe  control  of  his  boy's  education.  (See  J.  S.  Mill's  "Autobiog- 
raphy.") On  the  other  hand,  the  power  of  education,  when  the  educa- 
tor concentrates  himself  on  an  individual  pupil,  is  strikingly  illustrated 
in  the  history  of  the  celebrated  child,  Laura  Bridgman,  and  of  another 
blind-deaf-mute,  Helen  Keller.  (See  "  Mind,"  iv,  p.  149  ;  xiii,  p.  314 ; 
and  xiv,  p.  305.) 


424  NOTES. 

4  P.  63.  While  regarded  in  one  way,  the  teacher's  office  thus  ap- 
pears  a  mere  extension  of  the  system  of  natural  influences  under  which 
a  child  develops,  viewed  in  another  light  it  is  non-natural,  and  even 
anti-natural.  As  art,  education  aims  at  interfering  with,  modifying  and 
controlling  the  processes  of  Nature.  (See  the  remarkable  essay  on 
Nature  in  J.  S.  Mill's  "Essays  on  Religion.")  The  overlooking  of  this 
opposition  of  art  to  Nature  led  Rousseau  to  the  extravagant  idea  that 
the  child  should  during  the  first  twelve  years  remain  without  book- 
instruction,  being  handed  over  to  Nature's  teaching  (I'^ducation  des 
choses).  The  same  oversight  explains  a  good  deal  of  the  more  recent 
vague  talk  in  educational  literature  about  "following  Nature,"  and  so 
forth.  (See  W.  H.  Payne's  "Contributions  to  the  Science  of  Educa- 
tion," chap,  vii;  and  Compayre,  "  Cours  de  Pedagogie,"  p.  21  and  fol- 
lowing.) 

5  P.  65.  Training  has  to  do  with  the  production  of  some  definite 
result,  such  as  bodily  agility.  "We  speak  of  the  child  being  trained  to 
think,  to  deliberate,  and  so  forth.  The  development  of  all  the  powers 
in  harmonious  combination  is  best  expressed  by  the  word  education  or 
culture.     (See  article  "Culture,"  "  Cyclopaedia  of  Education.") 

6  P.  65.  Rousseau  urges  as  one  main  reason  for  postponing  formal 
instruction  that  it  enables  us  the  better  to  study  the  genius  of  the  child. 
Individual  characteristics  of  children  come  out  very  clearly  in  their 
play.  Hence  one  reason  why  the  teacher  should  take  note  of  this.  (On 
the  importance  of  developing  the  individuality  of  the  child,  see  Jean 
Paul  Richter,  "  Levana,"  fragment  ii,  sec.  ii ;  Beneke,  op.  cit.,  §  9 ; 
and  article  '*  Individualitat,"  in  Schmid's  "Paed.  Handbuch.") 

It  may  be  added  that  individuality  becomes  more  marked,  both  in 
respect  oi physique  and  morale,  as  life  advances.  This  is  in  accordance 
Avith  the  conception  of  the  process  of  development  as  a  constant  advance 
in  specialization  and  definiteness  of  character.  In  the  history  of  the 
child  the  animal  becomes  specialized  by  the  emergence  of  distinctively 
human  traits,  and  the  common  human  type  becomes  more  and  more 
differentiated  into  a  definitely  characterized  individual.  Hence  the 
need  of  specializing  more  and  more  in  education  as  the  pupil  advances 
in  years. 

6a  P.  65.  In  distinguishing  different  stages  of  intellectual  develop- 
ment, as  perception,  imagination,  and  thought,  we  do  not  mean  that  the 
child  first  passes  through  and  completes  a  stage  of  observation,  then 
enters  upon  a  stage  of  pure  imagination,  and  so  on.  Strictly  speaking, 
this  sequence  necessarily  holds  good  only  of  single  intellectual  products 
— e.  g.,  the  idea  of  weight  or  figure.    And  though  we  may  say  that  sense- 


NOTES.  425 

perception  predominates  in  childhood,  imagination  in  early  youth,  and 
abstract  thought  (in  the  case  of  the  highly  educated)  in  manhood,  we 
must  not  forget  that  the  exercise  and  improvement  of  sense  observation 
continue  as  long  as  mental  development  progresses.  In  truth,  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  higher  functions  of  thought  reacts  on,  and  helps  to  perfect, 
our  sense-perceptions,  facilitating  the  analysis  and  classification  of  the 
individual  objects  that  we  observe.  (See  Appendix  A,  "  Periods  of 
Development.") 

7  P.  69.  The  mental  attitude  of  attention  is  accompanied  by  ces- 
sation of  bodily  movement.  When  during  a  walk  we  try  to  think 
closely,  we  involuntarily  stand  still.  The  physiological  concomitants 
of  attention  are  fully  discussed  by  Ribot's  "  Psychologic  de  I'Atten- 
tion,"  chaps,  i  and  ii. 

8  P.  74.  This  effect  of  familiarity  on  the  attention  would  be  ex- 
plained by  the  Herbartian  psychologists  by  help  of  their  doctrine  of 
Apperception.  According  to  this,  we  only  become  interested  in  new 
impressions,  and  so  attend  to  them  so  far  as  they  are  "  apperceived  " — 
i.  e.,  attached  by  bonds  of  affinity  to  groups  or  masses  of  ideas  pre-ex- 
isting in  the  learner's  mind,  the  result  of  previous  processes  of  acquisi- 
tion.    (See  below,  note  15.) 

9  P.  86  This  truth  was  formulated  in  the  maxim  of  the  school- 
men— **  Nihil  est  in  intellectu  quod  non  prius  in  sensibus  erat."  Rous- 
seau expressed  the  relation  in  his  own  fashion  by  saying,  ' '  Nos  pre- 
mieres maitres  de  philosophic  sont  nos  pieds,  nos  mains,  nos  yeux." 
("Emile,"  Ed.  Gamier,  p.  118.) 

10  P.  103.  The  educational  importance  of  such  fine  discrimina- 
tion is  insisted  on  by  Prof.  Bain  ("  Education  as  Science,"  p.  15).  On 
the  other  hand.  Prof,  W.  H.  Payne  reminds  us  that  subtle  sense-dis- 
crimination distinguishes  the  savage,  and  is,  therefore,  no  guarantee  of 
higher  intellectual  development  ("  Contributions  to  the  Science  of  Edu- 
cation," pp.  27,  82). 

11  P.  106.  Rousseau  was  so  impressed  by  the  importance  of  the 
sense  of  touch  that  he  recommended  certain  games  to  be  played  in  the 
dark  in  order  to  develop  the  tactile  perceptions,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
blind,  and  so  to  give  children  confidence  in  the  dark  ("  Emile,"  p. 
128,  etc.). 

lla  P.  107.  The  development  of  the  senses  has  been  carefully 
traced  by  Piof.  Preyer,  **  Die  Seele  des  Kindes,"  i.  Tlieil.  The  im- 
portance of  exercising  sense-discrimination  is  discussed  by  Dr.  Bain, 
*'  Education  as  a  Science,"  chap.  iii.     The  relation  of  the  educator  to 


426  NOTES. 

the  senses  in  respect  both  of  the  health  of  the  organs  and  of  their  use 
as  mental  instruments  is  discussed  by  Compayre,  "  Cours  de  Peda- 
gogic," le9on  iv.  The  moral  education  of  the  senses  is  dealt  with  by 
M.  Perez,  "  L'Education  d6s  le  Berceau,"  chap.  ii. 

12  P.  125.  Rousseau  well  illustrates  the  aid  that  an  educator  can 
render  the  child  by  clearing  up  the  natural  illusions  respecting  distance, 
and  by  pointing  out  the  real  relations  of  objects  ("  Emile,"  p.  137). 

13  P-  135-  The  earliest  impressions  remembered  in  after-years 
appear  to  be  those  caused  by  something  appealing  strongly  to  childish 
wonder  and  awe.  George  Sand,  whose  memory  of  earlier  days  was 
singularly  far-reaching,  could  recall  a  blow  she  received  when  an  infant 
and  carried  in  her  nurse's  arms,  which  she  says  first  woke  her  to  a  sense 
of  life.  Steele's  recital,  in  the  "  Tatler,"  of  his  first  sense  of  sorrow, 
caused  by  the  death  of  his  father,  when  he  was  five  years  old,  illustrates 
the  effect  of  awe  and  terror  in  fixing  impressions.  (Quoted  by  Thack- 
eray, "  English  Humorists,"  Steele.) 

14  P.  142.  To  these  conditions  of  suggestion  we  ought  perhaps  to 
add  another,  viz.,  the  intensity  or  vividness  of  the  reviving  element.  It 
has  been  pointed  out  by  Hume  and  others  that  a  sense-impression  will 
call  up  any  associated  circumstance  more  powerfully  than  its  corre- 
sponding idea.  The  actual  sight  of  a  place  suggests  an  experience  lo- 
calized there  far  more  vividly  than  does  the  mental  image  of  that  place. 
Colonel  Parker  (**  Talks  on  Teaching,"  iii)  makes  use  of  this  fact  in 
urging  on  the  teacher  the  importance  of  associating  names  directly  with 
the  real  objects  presented  to  the  senses. 

15  P.  145.  Association  by  similarity  illustrates  the  general  princi- 
ple of  all  intellectual  acquisition,  that  the  mind  only  gains  full  posses- 
sion of  a  new  idea,  fact,  or  truth  when  it  assimilates  it  to  kindred  ele- 
ments of  cognition  already  acquired.  This  attaching  or  linking  on 
of  new  ideas  to  old  is  described  by  the  Herbartian  psychologists  as 
Apperception.  We  apperceive  or  mentally  appropriate  a  new  idea 
through  the  medium  of  some  similar  idea  or  group  of  ideas.  (Cf.  note 
8.  For  a  short  account  of  Herbart's  doctrine  of  apperception,  see 
"  Mind,"  xiii,  p.  484,  etc. ;  and  on  its  pedagogical  application  consult 
J.  A.  M'Lellan,  "  Applied  Psychology  "  (Toronto,  1889),  and  Dr.  K. 
Lange,  **  Ueber  Apperzeption.") 

"While  similarity  is  thus  of  first-rate  importance  as  an  aid  to  mem- 
ory, it  is  not  without  its  drawbacks.  Since  it  tends  to  bring  and  to 
keep  together  in  the  mind  distinct  experiences  and  impressions,  it  may 
easily  lead  to  confusion  of  particular  facts.  Thus  a  mind  that  is  much 
under  the  influence  of  similarity  is  apt  to  mix  up  different  words,  say- 


NOTES.  427 

ings,  historical  characters,  and  so  forth.  An  accurate  memory  for  con- 
crete details  and  particular  facts  implies  a  balancing  of  the  assimila- 
tive by  the  discriminative  impulse.  As  Jean  Paul  Richter  puts  it, 
similarities,  the  rudder  of  Recollection,  are  the  cliffs  of  Memory  ("  Le- 
vana,"  §  141). 

•  16  P.  164.  Comenius  used  to  say,  "  Repetitio  memorise  pater  et 
mater  est."  On  the  other  hand,  the  teacher  must  be  on  his  guard 
against  dry  mechanical  iteration.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  we  may  take  a 
hint  from  the  child's  spontaneous  tendencies.  He  likes  the  same  story 
to  be  repeated  after  an  interval,  but  would  resent  too  frequent  repeti- 
tion. The  monotony  of  repetition  must  be  counteracted  by  variety  in 
mode  of  presentment,  illustration,  etc.  It  has  been  pointed  out  that 
the  things  best  remembered  by  children  are  the  words  of  their  mother- 
tongue,  which  are  often  repeated,  but  in  ever-fresh  circumstances 
(Schmid's  "  Paed.  Handbuch,"  article  "  Gedachtniss  ").  Finally,  it  may 
be  added  that  the  best  things,  whether  stories,  jokes,  as  the  venerable 
one  allowed  by  Diggory  in  "She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  or  wise  and 
beautiful  sayings,  bear  the  most  repetition. 

17  P.  166.  George  Sand,  in  her  delightful  account  of  her  child- 
hood, tells  us  that  she  got  so  tired  of  repeating  La  Fontaine's  fables 
that  she  tried  not  to  understand  them. 

18  P.  169.  These  devices  commonly  involve  an  impulse  to  give 
an  appearance  of  order  or  class-arrangement  to  disconnected  details, 
and  so  bring  in  the  action  of  similarity.  Thus  the  height  of  Snowdon 
(3,571  feet)  is  easily  remembered  as  a  series  of  odd  digits.  Similarly, 
in  the  case  of  the  celebrated  dates  in  English  history,  the  '88's.  Some- 
times we  remember  a  thing  better  by  investing  it  with  an  adventitious 
dignity,  as  in  remembering  the  number  of  a  house,  32,  by  thinking  of  it 
as  2*.  In  like  manner,  the  noticing  of  anything  in  a  name  which  lends 
it  a  comical  aspect  may  help  us  to  retain  it  by  arousing  a  measure  of 
feeling  in  connection  with  it. 

19  P.  170.  This  branch  of  memory-training  connects  itself  with 
the  practical  problem,  the  proper  use  of  questioning  in  education,  so 
far,  that  is  to  say,  as  questioning  aims  at  calling  forth  what  is  known 
or  supposed  to  be  known,  whether  as  a  preliminary  to  teaching  or  as 
the  supplementary  test  of  it.  (On  this  subject  see  Fitch,  "  Lectures," 
pp.  158,  159  ;  and  article  "  Question  and  Answer,"  in  the  "  Cyclopaedia 
of  Education.") 

20  P.  181.  It  has  been  pointed  out  by  Motet  and  others  that  chil- 
dren of  abnormally  strong  imagination  are  apt  to  fall  into  illusions  of 


428  NOTES. 

memory ;  confusing  what  they  have  imagined,  read,  or  had  suggested 
by  others  with  what  has  actually  happened  ('*  Les  faux  t^moignages  des 
enfants  devant  la  justice,"  1887). 

21  P.  183.  "  Making  believe  is  the  gist  of  his  (the  child's)  whole 
life,  and  he  can  not  as  much  as  take  a  walk  except  in  character.  I 
could  not  learn  my  alphabet  without  some  mise-en-scene,  and  had  to  act 
a  business  man  in  an  office  before  I  could  sit  down  to  my  book  "  (R.  L. 
Stevenson,  '*  Virginibus  Puerisque  "  ("Child's  Play  "),  p.  235,  etc.). 

"  The  whole  existence  of  these  little  children  is  dramatic.  Their 
life  is  a  dream,  smiling,  prolonged,  entertained- designedly  "  (Madame 
Necker,  op.  cit,  i,  p.  303,  etc.). 

The  odd  mingling  of  this  make-believe  impulse  and  the  rational  or 
critical  impulse  is  seen  in  the  alternating  credulity  and  skepticism  of 
children  with  respect  to  their  dolls  and  toy-animals.  This  condition  of 
mind  has  been  admirably  described  by  George  Sand  when  recalling  her 
own  feeling  toward  her  dolls  ("  Histoire  de  ma  Vie,"  iii,  p.  181). 

22  P.  185.  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  has  shown,  in  a  very  interesting 
way,  that  the  same  holds  true  of  the  development  of  the  race.  The 
progress  of  a  people  in  civilization  and  culture  is  accompanied  by  a 
wide  expansion  of  the  imagination.  (See  "  Principles  of  Psychology," 
ii,  §§  491.  492.) 

23  P.  189.  Plato's  severe  proposal,  in  the  "Republic,"  to  banish 
the  poets  and  deprive  them  of  their  great  educational  function,  was 
based  on  ethical  grounds — the  hami  done  to  the  minds  of  the  young  by 
representations  of  the  gods  as  vicious.  At  the  same  time  it  indicates  a 
low  estimation  of  the  intellectual  function  of  the  imagination  as  repre- 
sentative of  sensible  objects,  and  as  opposed  to  divine  reason,  which 
intuits  universal  ideas.  Rousseau  was  particularly  hard  on  feeding 
children's  fancy  with  fictitious  story.  George  Sand  opposes  Rousseau's 
idea,  and  claims  full  liberty  of  action  for  the  imagination  ("  Histoire  de 
ma  Vie,"  ii,  p.  156). 

24  P.  190.  *'  To  exercise  the  imagination  innocently  is  just  as  ne- 
cessary as  to  restrain  it,  and  perhaps  we  only  restrain  it  when  we  exer- 
cise it"  (Madame  Necker,  loc.  cit.,  p.  322). 

25  P.  212.  It  is  not  improbable  that  children,  when  forming  the 
idea  of  self,  often  go  through  stages  of  fanciful  construction  resembling 
what  is  known  of  the  first  ideas  about  self  entertained  by  primitive 
man.  Sometimes  the  idea  of  a  number  of  selves  precedes  that  of  a 
single  united  self,  as  in  the  case  of  Hartley  Coleridge,  who,  when  told 
something  about  himself,  asked,  "Which  Hartley  is  it?     There  is  the 


NOTES.  429 

real  Hartley,  and  the  picture  Hartley,  and  the  shadow  Hartley,  and 
the  catch-me-first  Hartley,"  this  last  remark  being  accompanied  by  the 
act  of  catching  hold  of  one  arm  by  the  other. .  George  Sand  tells  us 
that  her  first  acquaintance  with  the  echo  (in  her  fourth  year)  led  her  to 
think  of  herself  as  having  a  double  existence,  and  that  this,  added  to 
the  experience  of  subjective  sensations  of  sight,  after  looking  at  a  bright 
dome  and  then  closing  the  eyes  (ocular  spectra),  suggested  a  theory 
closely  similar  to  the  animistic  idea  of  uncivilized  man,  viz.,  that  every- 
thing has  its  double.  (On  this  pi-imitive  animism,  see  Tylor,  "  Primi- 
tive Culture,"  chap,  xi.  On  the  development  of  self-consciousness  in 
the  child,  see  Preyer,  "Die  Seele  des  Kindes,"  chap,  xx.) 

26  P.  215.  The  two  intellectual  functions,  assimilation  and  dis- 
crimination, though  always  found  together  in  our  processes  of  thought, 
are  in  a  measure  opposed,  sometimes  the  one,  sometimes  the  other,  be- 
ing in  the  ascendant.  This  opposition  is  illustrated  in  the  two  con- 
trary movements  of  thought  illustrated  in  the  text,  viz.,  generalizing  on 
the  ground  of  likeness  where  difference  is  overlooked  for  the  moment, 
and  dividing  a  class  whdre  we  turn  away  from  the  common  likeness 
and  fix  our  attention  on  differences.  These  two  movements  of  mind 
answer  to  two  distinct  impulses  or  tendencies.  (See  Locke,  "  Conduct 
of  the  Understanding,"  xxxi.) 

27  P.  227.  It  is  worth  noting  that  the  child  is  apt  to  use  nouns  as 
qualifying  epithets  at  first.  Thus  he  will  call  a  little  dog  "baby"  dog. 
This  suggests  that  abstraction  can  not  as  yet  separate  out  for  distinct 
consideration  the  particular  quality,  so  that  the  child  has  to  indicate  it 
by  reference  to  some  like  object,  or  like  relation  of  objects. 

28  P.  236.  Parents  and  others  are,  one  fears,  apt  to  be  very  care- 
less in  explaining  new  words  to  children,  contenting  themselves  to  give 
a  very  rough  definition,  and  even  to  name  another  term  which  is  by  no 
means  an  exact  equivalent.  Thus,  a  child,  impressed  by  the  catching 
word  '*jiff"ey,"  and  asking  what  it  meant,  was  told,  "quickly,  in  a  hur- 
ry" (!).  He  immediately  began  to  apply  (or  misapply)  the  new  voca- 
ble, by  pointing  to  a  steamer  moving  very  rapidly  and  observing,  "  Dat 
puff-puff  goin'  in  a  jiffey." 

29  P.  255.  A  generalization  may  be  grossly  careless  when  based 
only  on  one  or  two  observed  cases,  or  inexact  because,  though  true  of 
the  majority  of  cases,  is  not  uniformly  so.  Children  are  so  eager  to 
reach  general  conclusions  that  it  is  difficult  to  get  them  to  note  excep- 
tions. Charles  Dai-win  illustrates  the  cautious  scientific  spirit  in  that 
he  paid  special  attention  to  (apparent)  exceptions. 


430 


NOTES. 


30  P.  273.  Different  opinions  have  been  held  by  educators  as  to 
the  desirability  of  reasoning  with  children.  Locke  was  for  treating 
them  as  rational  beings,  only  taking  care  to  give  them  such  reasons  as 
their  age  and  understanding  are  capable  of  ("  Thoughts  on  Education," 
§  81).  Rousseau,  who  held  that  reason  is  only  developed  late,  directly 
controverts  Locke.  He  says,  to  pretend  to  educate  a  child  by  reason- 
ing is  to  commence  at  the  end,  to  wish  to  make  of  what  is  a  product  an 
instrument. 

31  P.  285.  Jean  Paul  Richter  distinguishes  cheerfulness  from  en- 
joyment. Animals  can  enjoy,  but  man  alone  can  be  cheerful  ('*  Leva- 
na,"  frag,  iii,  ii).  The  need  of  making  learning  pleasant  is  insisted  on 
by  Locke  :  "  Care  should  be  taken  that  what  is  of  Advantage  to  them 
(children)  they  should  always  do  with  Delight,  and  before  they  are 
weary'd  with  one  thing  should  be  timely  diverted  to  some  other  useful 
employment "("  Thoughts,"  §  108).  He  even  goes  as  far  as  to  say 
that  study  can  be  made  as  enjoyable  as  play  if  it  is  divested  of  all  ap- 
pearance of  constraint,  and  rewarded  by  praise  (§  129.  Cf  §  76).  This 
idea,  however,  has  been  regarded  not  only  as  impracticable,  but  as  un- 
desirable. (See  Quick,  "  Educational  Reformers,"  p.  193.  On  the 
conditions  of  cheerfulness  see  "  Cyclopaedia  of  Education  "  (Sonnen- 
schein),  article  "  Cheerfulness.") 

32  P.  289.  Among  the  early  sense  enjoyments,  those  of  touch 
ought  not  to  be  overlooked.  Children  derive  great  and  prolonged  en- 
joyment from  touching  soft,  warm  surfaces  and  yielding  substances,  as 
fur,  hair,  etc.  Miss  H.  Martineau  tells  us  of  the  keen  delight  she  felt, 
when  about  two  01  three  years  old,  in  passing  her  fingers  round  a  flat 
button,  covered  with  black  velvet,  on  the  top  of  a  sister's  bonnet 
(*'  Household  Education,"  chap.  xix).  This  delight  in  touching  things 
greatly  furthers  the  development  of  those  tactual  perceptions  which,  as 
we  have  seen,  are  the  foundation  of  our  knowledge  of  material  objects. 

33  P.  292.  George  Sand  tells  us  that  when  she  learned  the  alpha- 
bet she  would  repeat  all  the  letters  except  B.  Asked  why  she  would 
not  name  that  letter,  she  answered,  with  delightful  childish  inconse- 
quence, "  Because  I  don't  know  the  B."  What  odd  movement  of  in- 
fantile fancy,  one  wonders,  underlay  this  prejudice  against  the  unof- 
fending letter. 

34  P.  304.  One  of  the  most  striking  illustrations  of  this  effect  of 
which  I  know  is  one  of  George  Sand's  reminiscences  of  her  childhood. 
She  was  lagging  one  evening  behind  her  mother,  who  threatened  to 
leave  her  if  she  did  not  hurry  on.  An  old  woman  lamplighter,  who 
happened  at  the  moment  to  be  lighting  a  lamp  hard  by,  overhearing 


NOTES.  431 

this,  threatened  playfully  to  shut  her  in  the  lamp  for  the  night.  "  I  do 
not "  (she  writes)  "  remember  that  I  ever  experienced  such  a  terror  as 
she  caused  me.  The  lamp,  with  its  glittering  reflector,  instantly  as- 
sumed to  my  eyes  fantastic  proportions,  and  I  already  saw  myself  shut 
in  this  crystal  prison,  consumed  by  the  flame  which  the  punch  in  petti- 
coats made  to  burst  out  at  her  pleasure."  Mr.  Anstey  well  describes 
the  effect  of  the  terrifying  image  of  the  policeman  on  a  little  girl's 
mind  in  his  story,  "  The  Giant's  Robe." 

35  P-  306.  The  question,  What  is  the  best  way  to  deal  with  chil- 
dren's fear?  has  been  discussed  by  Locke  (''  Thoughts,"  §  115  and  fol- 
lowing, and  §  138)  and  by  Rousseau  ("  Emile,"  book  ii).  Both  lay 
stress  on  the  importance  of  getting  children  to  approach  and  examine 
strange  objects  which  frighten  them.  George  Sand,  however,  reminds 
us  that  to  force  a  timid  child  to  approach  the  object  of  its  fear  may 
make  matters  worse,  and  that  it  is  often  better  to  remove  him  from  the 
cause  and  to  distract  his  thoughts  ("  Histoire  de  ma  Vie,"  ii,  p.  164). 
Similarly,  Madame  Necker,  h  propos  of  the  games  in  the  dark  recom- 
mended by  Rousseau  as  a  cure  for  fear  of  darkness,  writes,  "  Those 
games  in  which  the  child  forgets  his  fear  effect  more  than  those  in 
which  he  braves  it "  ("  L'Education  Progressif,"  iii,  chap.  v). 

36  P.  311.  The  characteristics  of  childish  anger  are  dealt  with  by 
Percy  ("  L'Education  des  Berceau,"  chap,  vi,  sec.  iii).  The  proper 
way  to  deal  with  passionateness  in  children  is  handled  by  Locke 
("  Thoughts,"  §  III  and  following),  Maria  Edgeworth  {loc.  cit.),  and  by 
the  writer  of  the  article  "  Leidenschaftlichkeit  und  Selbstbeherr- 
schung,"  in  Schmid's  "  Paed.  Handbuch."  The  fuller  treatment  of  the 
mastery  of  passion  will  be  found  below,  under  the  head  "  Self-Control." 

37  P.  314.  Compare  the  passages  in  Locke  (,§§  129,  76)  already 
referred  to  in  note  31. 

38  P.  317.  The  stimulus  of  emulation  was  relied  on  to  a  danger- 
ous extent  by  the  Jesuit  system  of  education.  (See  Quick,  "  Educa- 
tional Reformers,"  chap.  i).  Cowper  satirizes  the  effect  of  public- 
school  competition  on  the  feelings  and  character  in  his  poem  "  Tiro- 
cinium." To  him  emulation  meant  a  compound  "of  envy,  hatred, 
jealousy,  and  pride."  Its  proper  place  in  education  is  judiciously  dis- 
cussed in  Compayre's  "  Cours  de  Ped.,"  pt.  ii,  chap,  xi ;  and  in  the  im- 
portant article  "  Wetteifer,"  in  Schmid's  "Paed.  Handbuch." 

39  P.  320.  The  desire  for  others'  good  opinion  and  reputation  may 
be  appealed  to  in  lieu  of  the  impulse  of  rivalry,  as,  indeed,  it  was  done 
by  Locke  in  his  scheme  of  private  education.     Locke,  however,  pretty 


432 


NOTES. 


certainly,  in  his  turn,  overrated  the  moral  value  of  this  motive.  (See 
Mr.  Quick's  remarks  on  this  point  in  his  edition  of  Locke's  "  Thoughts," 
note,  p.  218.) 

40  P.  332.  It  is  worth  observing  that  the  feelings  here  distinguished 
do  not  always  exist  in  equal  strength.  One  person  sets  more  store  by 
the  actual  possession  of  knowledge  ;  another  would  rather  side  with 
Lessing,  and  prefer  the  exertion  of  pursuit,  even  without  attainment, 
than  the  possession  without  the  pursuit,  if  such  thing  were  possible. 
Children,  before  they  come  to  set  its  right  value  on  knowledge,  should 
be  led,  as  far  as  possible,  to  learn  for  the  pleasure  of  learning — that  is 
to  say,  for  the  sake  of  the  delight  w^hich  intellectual  activity  imme- 
diately brings. 

41  P.  332.  Prof.  Preyer  observed  the  first  distinct  manifestation 
of  wonder  in  his  child  about  the  fifth  month  {op.  cit.,  p.  108,  etc.). 
The  student  should  note  the  points  of  similarity  and  contrast  between 
childish  wonder  and  curiosity  and  that  of  animals,  as  described  by 
Darwin  and  others.     (See  the  "  Descent  of  Man,"  part  i,  chap,  iii.) 

42  P.  341.  George  Sand  tells  us  that,  during  her  first  long  jour- 
ney into  Spain,  in  her  fourth  year,  her  mother  used  to  say,  "  Look ! 
how  pretty  that  is,"  and  adds,  "Immediately  those  objects,  which  I 
should  not  have  remarked  myself,  revealed  to  me  their  beauty." 

43  P-  342.  Care  should,  however,  be  taken  not  to  force,  or  even 
encourage,  original  production  before  the  taste  has  been  sufficiently  de- 
veloped by  the  study  of  good  models.  On  this  point  see  Jean  Paul 
Richter,  "  Levana,"  frag,  viii,  chap.  i.  "  Nothing"  he  there  says,  "is 
more  dangerous  for  art,  as  well  as  for  character,  than  to  express  imma- 
ture feeling." 

44  P.  343.  George  Sand  tells  us  she  suffered  keenly  as  a  child 
from  having  her  first  naive  idea  of  prettiness  rudely  handled  by  others, 
more  especially  her  somewhat  pedantic  grandmother,  who  was  fond  of 
correcting  the  child's  taste  by  telling  her  that  this  face  was  not  accu- 
rately drawn,  this  dress  not  harmonious  in  color,  and  so  forth  ("  His- 
toire  de  ma  Vie,"  ii,  p.  161).  (Compare  what  is  said  by  Jean  Paul 
Richter,  Miss  Wood's  selections  from  "  Levana,"  p.  104.) 

45  P.  344.  The  cultivation  of  the  aesthetic  sentiment  connects 
itself  with  moral  education  at  another  point,  viz.,  admiration  of  what 
is  noble  in  human  character  (cf.  p.  418).  A  fine  feeling  for  the  beau- 
tiful and  admirable  side  of  virtue  has  commonly  been  regarded  as 
an  aid  to  moral  development.  The  Greeks,  by  bringing  together  un- 
der one  conception  the  beautiful  and  the  good  (AfaA.i>s  M.-yaBii),  went 


NOTES.  433 

further  than  any  others  in  identifying  aesthetic  and  moral  culture- 
Such  identification  may,  however,  be  carried  too  far,  and  lead  (i)  either 
to  the  undue  subordination  of  art  and  literature  to  moral  ends,  as  by 
Plato  in  his  "  Republic  "  ;  or  (2)  to  the  idea,  so  popular  in  Germany  at 
the  close  of  the  last  century,  that  the  sesthetic  or  beautiful  man  neces- 
sarily includes  the  good  man.  (On  the  relation  of  the  idea  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  good  in  its  educational  bearing,  see  Bruno  Meyer, 
"  Das  ^sthetische  als  Erziehungsmittel  und  Unterrichtsgegenstand, 
p.  3,  etc.) 

46  P.  349.  Rousseau  was  strongly  of  opinion  that  "  the  first  sense 
of  justice  comes  to  us,  not  from  what  we  owe  to  others,  but  what  is 
owed  to  us  "  ("  Emile,"  livre  ii).  This  is  going  too  far,  since  the  sense 
0/  obligation  requires  the  presence  of  an  authority  which  can  enforce 
moral  rules.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  certain  that  the  feeling  of  right 
or  of  justice  has  one  of  its  roots  in  the  impulse  of  self-protection.  (See 
J.  S-  Mill's  "  Utilitarianism,"  chap,  v.) 

47  P.  363.  Another  illustration  from  baby  life  may  not  be  super- 
fluous. A  child  lying  on  a  hearth-rug,  by  a  random  movement  happens 
to  kick  off  its  shoe.  Taking  careful  note  of  so  interesting  an  effect,  it 
proceeds  to  repeat  the  action,  with  the  definite  intention  to  bring 
about  the  desirable  result. 

48  P.  373.  The  educational  value  of  the  principle  of  habit,  al- 
ready touched  on  (p.  51),  has  been  variously  estimated.  Locke,  as 
pointed  out  above,  makes  it  the  cardinal  principle  of  intellectual 
and  moral  training.  (Consult,  further,  Mr,  Quick's  edition  of  the 
"Thoughts,"  Introduction,  p.  liv  ;  and  Locke's  "Conduct  of  the  Un- 
derstanding," sect,  iv.)  Rousseau,  on  the  contrary,  bent  on  develop- 
ing a  free  individual,  untrammeled  by  the  restrictiors  of  custom  and 
convention,  ridicules  Locke's  idea,  and  says,  facetiously,  "  The  only 
habit  we  ought  to  get  children  to  form  is  that  of  having  no  habits." 
The  bearings  of  habit  on  education  are  discussed  by  Dr.  Carpenter 
("  Mental  Physiology,"  book  i,  chap,  vii),  and  still  more  fully  by  P. 
Radestock  ("  Gevi-ohuung  und  ihre  Wichtigkeit  fiir  die  Erziehung"). 

49  P.  374.  The  training  of  the  bodily  powers  was  carried  to  a 
high  degree  of  perfection  by  the  Greeks,  under  the  name  of  gymnas- 
tics. At  the  same  time,  Plato,  though  not  ignoring  the  value  of  these 
exercises  as  conducive  to  bodily  health  and  efficiency,  esteemed  them 
chiefly  as  contributing  to  mental  and  moral  development,  by  producing 
such  qualities  as  courage,  endurance,  and  self-assertion.  (See''Grote's 
"  Plato,"  iii,  pp.  117,  174.  Cf  Compayre's  "  Cours  de  Ped.,"  le9on  ii). 
I  he  connection  between  bodily  movement  and   intellectual  develop- 


434 


NOTES. 


ment  was  emphasized  by  Rousseau.  According  to  him,  it  is  the  con- 
tinual exercise  of  the  limbs,  under  the  sole  direction  of  Nature,  "  which 
forms  in  us  the  only  kind  of  reason  of  which  the  first  age  is  suscep- 
tible" ("  Emile,"  book.ii,  p.  1 17). 

50  P.  383.  Mrs.  Bryant  distinguishes  obstinacy  from  self-will  pure 
and  simple.  The  former  is  set,  not  only  on  some  particular  object, 
but  commonly  also  on  some  particular  way  of  securing  this.  The  lat- 
ter is  careless  of  both  so  long  as  self  is  left  free  to  choose  what  they 
shall  be  ("  Educational  Ends,"  p.  21).  (For  a  full  account  of  self-will, 
see  the  article,  "  Wille,"  Schmid's  "  Paed.  Handbuch.") 

51  P.  387.  This  interconnection  of  the  different  forms  of  self-con- 
trol illustrates  the  organic  unity  of  the  educational  process.  Intel- 
lectual instruction,  by  exercising  the  will  (in  voluntary  attention)  and 
developing  habits  of  industry,  orderly  arrangement,  concern  for  accu- 
racy, and  so  forth,  is  in  a  measure  also  moral.  Conversely,  moral  edu- 
cation, by  exercising  the  mind  of  the  pupil  in  careful  reflection,  dis- 
crimination, etc.,  is,  at  the  same  time,  an  intellectual  discipline.  This 
interdependence  of  intellectual  and  moral  education  is  emphasized  in 
an  exceptional  manner  by  Mrs.  Bryant,  "  Educational  Ends"  (conclu- 
sion). 

52  P.  389.  On  the  different  meanings  of  the  term  character,  and 
its  ethical  and  educational  significance,  see  the  article  "Caractere,"  in 
Buisson's  "  Encyclop.  de  I'Education."  Cf.  A.  Martin's  "  L'Educa- 
tion  du  Caractere,"  chap,  i ;  and  the  article  *'  Charakter,"  in  Schmidt's 
"  Paed.  Handbuch." 

53  P-  392.  The  outward  act  of  obedience  may  arise  from  various 
internal  causes.  Thus  we  may  distinguish  (i)  passive  obedience,  aris- 
ing from  mere  want  of  will  or  moral  supineness  ;  (2)  obedience  from 
personal  liking  or  affection  for  the  person  issuing  the  commands  ;  (3) 
prudential  obedience,  which  calculates  the  advantages  of  conforming 
and  not  conforming ;  and  (4)  moral  obedience  in  its  full  sense,  which 
involves  a  feeling  of  reverence  for  authority,  and  which  may  be  said  to 
shade  off  from  what  Kant  calls  absolute  obedience  into  free  intelligent 
compliance  with  law.  (See  articles  '*  Obedience"  and  "  Kant,"  in  the 
"  Cyclopaedia  of  Education  "  ;  also  the  articles  "  Gehorsam  "  and  "  Un- 
gehorsam,"  in  Schmid's  "Paed.  Handbuch.") 

54  P.  394.  Miss  Edgeworth  is  here  ("  Practical  Education,"  chap, 
ix)  referring  to  the  earlier  control  of  the  child's  movements  by  others. 
It  is  obviously  easier  to  use  physical  force  in  checking  than  in  produc- 
ing a  movement.     Madame  Necker  appears  also  to  hold  that  prohibi- 


NOTES.  435 

tions  should  precede  commands,  though  she  is  not  blind  to  certain  dis- 
advantages in  the  former  {op.  cit.y  iii,  chap.  ii).  At  the  same  time,  it  is 
to  be  pointed  out  that,  when  the  consciousness  of  self  and  the  love  of 
liberty  are  developed,  a  prohibition  is  more  likely  to  be  resented  than  a 
command.  The  former  implies  a  check  to  an  impulse  actually  at  w^ork. 
dr  likely  to  be  so,  whereas  the  latter  may  be  merely  suggesting  a  line 
of  action  which  the  child  will  be  quite  ready  to  adopt.  Prohibitions, 
moreover,  have  the  disadvantage  that  they  are  apt  to  bring  before  the 
mind  actions  of  which  the  child  would  not  otherwise  think,  and  to 
which,  just  because  they  are  thus  vividly  suggested,  he  feels  a  perverse 
inclination.  The  natural  propensity  of  the  human  heart  to  resent  pro- 
hibitions is  cunningly  illustrated  in  a  mode  of  advertisement  sometimes 
adopted  in  the  streets.  On  the  anterior  of  two  boards,  carried  by  a 
sandwich-man,  is  printed  the  prohibition,  "  Don't  look  at  my  back  ! " 
where,  of  course,  the  real  advertisement  is  to  be  found.  (Cf.  Perez, 
*'  First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,"  p.  io8.) 

55  P.  401.  This  gradual  relaxation  of  discipline  makes  way  for 
that  process  of  moral  self-education  on  which  virtuous  character  or 
(to  use  Kant's  language)  the  good-will  immediately  depends.  (See 
article  "  Kant,"  in  Schmid's  "  Paed.  Handbuch,"  and  Madame  Necker's 
"  L'Education  Progressif,"  i,  chap,  iv.) 


29 


INDEX. 


Abstract,  knowledge  of,  a  final  stage 
of  development,  46,  200 ;  reducing 
of,  to  concrete,  177  ;  order  of  tak- 
ing up,  subjects,  237. 

Abstraction,  involved  in  thought,  201; 
an  element  in  conception,  204 ;  de- 
grees of,  207  ;  imperfect,  219 ;  de- 
velopment of  power  of,  224  ;  train- 
ing of,  230. 

Accommodation  of  surroundings,  286, 

Accuracy,  of  observation,  119;  of  re- 
production, 161  ;  of  conception, 
218,  219  ;  of  judgment,  247. 

Acquisition  of  knowledge,  exercise  in, 
162 ;  activity  of  imagination  in, 
176. 

Action,  voluntary,  359  ;  rational,  378; 
complex,  380 ;  moral,  388. 

Activity,  love  of,  one  of  egoistic  feel- 
ings, 311.     (See  Power.) 

Activity,  mental,  dependence  of,  on 
brain,  27  ;  conditions  of,  41. 

Activity,  muscular,  relation  of  desire 
to,  358 ;  a  condition  of  acquiring 
command  of  organs,  36S ;  child's 
natural  disposition  to,  374. 

Adjectives,  use  of,  a  stage  in  abstrac- 
tion, 227. 

/Esthetic  sentiment,  sesthetic  faculty, 
nature  of,  335  ;  ingredients  in,  336 ; 
connection  of  feeling  and  judgment 
in,  336 ;  standard  of,  337 ;  growth 
of,  337 ;  education  of,  340 ;  culti- 
vating love  of  nature,  342 ;  devel- 
oping a  feeling  for  art,  342  ;  exer- 
cising child  in  forming  his  own 
judgments,  343  ;  connection  of,  with 
intellectual  pursuits  ;  343  ;  point  of 
contact  of  aesthetic  and  moral  train- 
ing, 344- 

-Esthetics,  bearing  of,  on  educa- 
tion, 9. 


Affectation,  of  feeling,  301  ;  of  taste, 
342. 

Affection,  a  permanent  emotional 
disposition,  30x3. 

Affirmation,  a  typ3  of  judgment,  244. 

Ambig^Jity  of  terms,  218,  261. 

Analogy,  a  form  of  reasoning,  262. 

Analysis,  an  element  in  knowing,  39  ; 
relation  of,  to  abstraction,  204, 
208  ;  a  distinction  of  method,  277, 

Anger,  nature  of,  307  ;  children's  lia- 
bility to,  30S ;  various  forms  of, 
308  ;  management  of,  309 ;  rela- 
tion of,  to  feeling  of  justice,  311. 

Animals,  child's  sympathy  with,  325. 

Anti-social  feelings,  309. 

Approbation,  love  of,  318 ;  egoistic 
and  social  aspects  of,  319 ;  educa- 
tional management  of,  319,  320. 

Art,  relation  of  science  to,  i. 

Arts,  fine,  appreciation  of,  336;  un- 
derlying impulse  of,  339  ;  develop- 
ment of  feeling  for,  342. 

Assimilation,  one  of  primary  intel- 
lectual functions,  39 ;  involved  in 
memory,  144  ;  in  realizing  descrip- 
tion, 177;  in  conception,  204;  in 
judging,  243 ;  in  reasoning,  249 ; 
in  induction,  253 ;  in  deduction, 
260  ;  method  of  measuring,  413. 

Association,  laws  of,  involved  in  men- 
tal development,  51 ;   a  means  of 
reproduction,   137 ;   different  kinds 
of,    138 ;    by  contiguity,   138 ;    by 
similarity,   144 ;   by  contrast,   145  ; 
co-operation  of,   146  ;   obstructive, 
147 ;  use  of,  by  educator,  164 ;  ac- 
tion of,  in  growth  of  feeling,  291  ; 
and  in  growth  of  will,  363,  370. 
j  Attention,  dependence  of  mental  de- 
I       velopment   on,    53  ;    place   of,    in 
I       mind,  66  ;  definition  of,  66  ;  direc- 


438 


INDEX, 


tions  of,  67  ;  effects  of,  68  ;  physi- 
ology of,  68 ;  extent  of,  69 ;  non- 
voluntary and  voluntary,  70  ;  func- 
tion of  will  in,  74  ;  growth  of,  76  ; 
to  the  unimpressive,  77  ;  keeping, 
fixed,  78 ;  grasp  of,  80 ;  habits  of, 
81 ;  varieties  of,  81 ;  training  of, 
82  ;  to  sense-impressions,  99  ;  con- 
trol of,  by  will,  386  ;  measurement 
of,  412. 

Authority,  effect  of,  on  judgment, 
242,  249  ;  intellectual  claims  of, 
271 ;  action  of,  in  developing  feel- 
ing of  duty,  348,  351 ;  action  of,  in 
developing  will  and  character,  391. 

Aversion,  a  form  of  desire,  357. 

Bain,  Dr.  A.,  on  cost  of  storing  up 
impressions,  135  ;  on  plastic  period, 
161 ;  on  number  of  instances  in 
classification,  233 ;  on  love  of  cru- 
elty, 308. 

Belief,  an  element  in  judgment,  240, 
245. 

Beneke,  Dr.  F.  E.,  on  improvement 
of  memory,  159  ;  on  periods  of  de- 
velopment, 406. 

Benevolence,  an  outgrowth  from  sym- 
pathy, 323. 

Bentham,  Jeremy,  on  punishment, 
398. 

Bias,  shown  in  judgment,  243. 

Body,  connection  of  mind  with,  14, 
21 ;  our  own,  how  known,  117; 
exercise  and  training  of,  373, 

Boyhood  and  girlhood,  a  period  of 
development,  407. 

Brain,  nature  and  functions  of,  23, 
25 ;  efficiency  of,  27 ;  fatigue  of, 
28 ;  overtaxing,  29,  30  ;  economical 
management  of,  31 ;  differences  in 
power  of,  32  ;  growth  and  develop- 
ment of,  53. 

Causation — cause,  relation  of  induc- 
tion to,  254;  children's  idea  of, 
254  ;  natural  reasoning  about,  255  ; 
regulated  reasoning  about,  257 ; 
first  reasonings  about,  266. 

Change,  effect  of,  on  attention,  71 ; 
on  pleasures,  285. 

Character,  definition  of,  389;  moral 
or  virtuous,  389 ;  relation  of,  to 
moral  habits,  390. 

Child,  observation  of  mind  of,  17; 
physical  characteristics  of,  30,  54 ; 
action  of  external  surroundings  on, 
55  ;  individual  differences  of,  58 ; 
attention  of,  71,  76,  83;  sense-dis- 
crimination  of,    I03 ;    perceptions 


of,  121 ;  memory  of,  152  ;  imagina- 
tion of,  182  ;  notions  of,  225  ;  idea 
of  cause  of,  254 ;  first  judgments 
of,  263 ;  first  reasonings  of,  263 ; 
emotional  characteristics  of,  294 ; 
timidity  of,  305  ;  passionateness  of, 
308 ;  love  of  activity  and  power, 
311,  374  ;  feeling  of  rivalry  of,  315  ; 
love  of  others'  good  opinion,  319, 
320 ;  sympathy  of,  322,  325  ;  curi- 
osity of,  332  ;  aesthetic  preferences 
of,  338,  339 ;  moral  feelings  of, 
348 ;  imitativeness  of,  365 ;  ina- 
bility of,  to  deliberate,  381 ;  want 
of  self-control  in,  385  ;  recognition 
of  authority  by,  392  ;  classification 
of,  410. 

Childhood,  a  period  of  development, 
406. 

Choice,  element  in  judging,  244  ;  an 
element  in  vohtion,  380. 

Classification,  of  mental  operations, 
34  ;  logical  process  of,  214 ;  a  mode 
of  exercising  child  in  abstraction, 
232  ;  of  children,  410. 

Color-sense,  98 ;  training  of,  104 ; 
method  of  testing,  411. 

Command,  external,  as  stimulus  to 
movement,  367 ;  as  element  of 
moral  discipline,  391,  394. 

Command,  internal,  of  movements, 
368.     (See  Self-control.) 

Companions,  influence  of,  through 
workings  of  rivalry,  315 ;  through 
action  of  sympathy,  326 ;  in  devel- 
oping moral  sense,  340,  354 ; 
through  impulse  of  imitation,  367, 

374- 

Comparison,  involved  in  conception, 
201  ;  conditions  of,  202. 

Competition,  for  prizes,  400.  (See 
Rivalry.) 

Concentration,  nature  of,  79;  rela- 
tion of,  to  intellectual  power,  80. 

Concept,  nature  of,  200;  formation 
of,  201  ;  varieties  of,  208 ;  systems 
of,  214  ;  imperfections  of,  216 ;  re- 
vision of,  221  ;  relation  of.  to 
image,  221 ;  on  defining,  222 ; 
early,  224 ;  relation  of,  to  judg- 
ment, 241. 

Conception,  a  stage  of  thinking,  200 ; 

I      process  of,  200 ;  and  naming,  205  ; 

and  discrimination,  213,  225  ;  and 

imagination,  221 ;  growth  of  pow- 

j      er  of,  224  ;  training  of,  230. 

I  Concrete,   knowledge  of,  first  stage 

,      of  development,  47  ;  reduction  of 

abstract  to,    1 77  ;    going  back  to, 


INDEX. 


439 


Conditions,  of  mental  activity,  41 ; 
of  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing, 
41  ;  need  of  understanding,  42,  43. 

Conduct,  region  of,  387. 

Conflict,  intellectual,  245  ;  volitional, 
381. 

Connotation  and  denotation  of 
names,  206. 

Conscience,  a  form  of  moral  senti- 
ment, 345. 

Consequences,  discipline  of,  393. 

Construction — Constructive  imagina- 
tion, definition  of,  174 ;  forms  of, 
176;  in  acquisition,  176;  in  dis- 
covery, 178 ;  in  practical  contriv- 
ance, J  78 ;  as  stimulated  by  feel- 
ing, 180  ;  intellectual  value  of,  181 ; 
development  of,  182  ;  differences  in 
power  of,  186  ;  training  of,  187. 

Contagion,  of  feeling,  322  ;  of  bodily 
activity,  365. 

Contest,  apt  to  give  rise  to  hostile 
feeling,  308 ;  attended  by  feeling 
of  rivalry,  316. 

Contiguity,  a  mode  of  association, 
138. 

Contrast,  effect  of,  on  attention,  71 ; 
a  bond  of  association,  145. 

Contrivance,  a  form  of  constructive 
imagination,  178  ;  exercise  of,  196, 

Control,  external,  of  feeling,  298  ;  of 
movement,  374 ;  of  will,  390 ;  ex- 
cessive, 400. 

Control,  internal,  of  movement  and 
impulse,  383 ;  of  feeling,  384 ;  of 
the    thoughts,    385.      (bee    Self- 

CONTROL.) 

Co-operation  of  associations,  146 ; 
of  active  impulses,  380. 

Courage,  development  of,  306. 

Cruelty,  child's  love  of,  308, 

Curiosity,  nature  of  children's,  272, 
332 ;  relation  of  wonder  to,  330, 
332 ;  educational  management  of, 

334. 
Custom,  effect  of,  on  feeling,  293 ; 
on  taste,  340 ;  on  moral  develop- 
ment, 403.     (See  Habit.) 

Darwin,  C,  on  first  mental  images, 
152  ;  on  early  abstraction,  226  ;  on 
first  trace  of  anger,  307  ;  on  child's 
artistic  impulses,  339 ;  on  early  imi- 
tation, 365. 

Deaf-mutes,  method  of  teaching,  376. 

Decision,  an  element  in  judging,  244, 
248 ;  an  element  in  voluntary  ac- 
tion, 381. 

Deduction,  a  form  of  reasoning,  252  ; 
nature  of,  259;  as  application  of 


principles  and  explanation,  260 ; 
regulated,  261  ;  beginnings  of,  268 ; 
training  of  child  in,  274. 

Definition,  logical  process  of,  222 ; 
use  of,  by  teacher,  234. 

Degree  of  sensation,  88. 

Deliberation,  nature  of,  380,  381  ; 
difficulties  of,  382. 

Description,  realization  of,  176;  art 
of,  193. 

Desire,  nature  of,  357  ;  how  related  to 
activity,  358  ;  and  to  willing,  359. 

Development,  relation  of  growth  to, 
30.  45,  54 ;  of  mind,  45  ;  of  faculty, 
47 ;  of  sum  of  faculties,  47,  48 ; 
unity  of  intellectual,  48 ;  relation 
of,  to  exercise,  49 ;  process  of,  50 ; 
different  aspects  of,  52 ;  unity  of, 
52  ;  of  brain,  53 ;  factors  of,  54  ; 
varieties  of,  57 ;  of  attention,  76 ; 
of  sense-capacity,  100 ;  of  percep- 
tion, 121 ;  of  memory,  152  ;  of  im- 
agination, 181 ;  of  abstraction,  224 ; 
of  powers  of  judging  and  reason- 
ing, 263  ;  of  emotion,  289  ;  of  sym- 
pathy, 325  ;  of  intellectual  feehngs, 
332 ;  of  aesthetic  faculty,  337 ;  of 
moral  sentiment,  347 ;  of  willing, 
359  ;  of  voluntary  movement,  363, 
368  ;  periods  of,  405, 

Diffusion  of  feeling,  280. 

Discipline,  moral,  influence  of,  in  de- 
veloping moral  sense,  352  ;  ends 
of,  392  ;  conditions  of,  394  ;  of  the 
home  and  the  school,  401. 

Discovery  of  knowledge,  relation  of 
imagination  to,  178 ;  stimulating 
child  to,  273 ;  method  of,  276 ; 
pleasure  of,  281. 

Discrimination,  one  of  the  primary 
intellectual  functions,  39 ;  of  sensa- 
tion, 99  ;  improvement  of,  100  ;  in- 
dividual variations  of,  102  ;  exer- , 
cise  and  training  of,  102  ;  involved 
in  realizing  description,  178 ;  in 
conception,  213,  225  ;  in  judging, 
243 ;  in  reasoning,  259 ;  measure- 
ment of,  411. 

Disposition,  a  result  of  exercise,  50, 
131,  370;  inherited,  59;  a  fixed 
emotional  tendency,   293 ;   moral, 

Distance,  perception  of,  114. 
Distinctness,   of    percepts,    119 ;    of 

images,  150 ;  of  concepts,  216 ;  of 

judgment,  246. 
Dittes,  Dr.  F.,  on  different  forms  of 

disobedience,  397. 
Division,  of  mind,  35  ;  logical  process 

of,  214. 


440 


INDEX, 


Doubt,  state  of,  245. 

Drawing,   as  means    of    cultivating 

sense  of  form,  126. 
Duty,  as  object  of  moral  sentiment, 

346. 

Edgeworth,  Maria,  on  volatile  genius, 
82;  on  toys,  124;  on  cultivating 
the  memory,  163 ;  on  early  princi- 
ple of  association,  165  ;  on  affecta- 
tion of  good  feeling,  301 ;  on  cor- 
recting angry  passion,  310 ;  on 
hurtful  effects  of  rivalry,  317 ;  on 
vanity  and  pride,  321 ;  on  chil- 
dren's gratitude,  326;  on  prohibi- 
tions, 394. 

Education,  art  and  science  of,  4 ;  re- 
lation of  instruction  to,  6 ;  division 
of,  8 ;  relation  of  measurement  of 
faculty  to,  409.    (See  Training.) 

Effort  of  will,  380,  386. 

Ego.     (See  Self.) 

Egoistic  feelings,  293,  303. 

Eliot,  George,  on  reasoning  with 
children,  273. 

Emotion,  a  division  of  feeling,  289 ; 
development  of,  289  ;  order  of  ap- 
pearance of,  293 ;  children's,  295  ; 
education  of,  297.    (See  Feeling.) 

Emulation,   relation   of,   to  rivalry, 

317- 
End,  relation  of,  to  art,  2  ;  of  educa- 
tion, 4  ;  as  an  element  in  volition, 
359;  secondary,  379;   permanent, 

379- 

Environment,  natural,  55 ;  social, 
56  ;  diversities  of,  60. 

Ethics,  bearing  of,  on  education,  8 ; 
use  of,  in  moral  instruction,  354. 

Exaggeration,  child's  tendency  to, 
265,  271. 

Example,  action  of,  a  factor  in  de- 
velo[)ment,  56  ;  value  of,  366.  (See 
Imitation.) 

Exercise,  of  brain,  30 ;  of  faculty,  43 ; 
relation  of,  to  growth,  49  ;  moder- 
ate and  excessive,  283  ;  of  feeling, 
290;  of  wiU,36o,  363;  muscular,  373. 

Experience,  effect  of,  on  reproduc- 
tion, 153  ;  on  imagination,  184  ;  on 
conception,  219 ;  on  judgment, 
243 ;  on  reasoning,  254 ;  on  devel- 

*  opment  of  feelings,  290  ;  on  growth 
of  will,  360. 

Explanation,  nature  of,  260. 

Expression  of  feeling,  282 ;  inhibi- 
tion of,  384. 

Faculty,  mental,  38 ;  development  of, 
47 ;  order  of  development  of,  47  ; 


exercise  of,  49;  training  of,  63*, 
measurement  of,  409. 

Fancy,  children's,  183 ;  restraining, 
188. 

Faraday,  Professor  M.,  on  restraining 
inclinations,  270. 

Fatigue,  of  brain,  28  ;  a  condition  of 
pain,  283. 

Fear,  nature  of,  303  ;  how  far  inher- 
ited, 304 ;  depressing  effect  of,  304  ; 
children's  liability  to,  305 ;  educa- 
tional control  of,  305. 

Feeling,  place  of,  in  mind,  35,  279 ; 
effect  of,  on  imagination,  180 ;  ef- 
fect of,  on  judgment,  243,  247 ; 
nature  of,  279  ;  effects  of,  on  intel- 
lect, 281 ;  bodily  manifestations  of, 
281 ;  as  pleasure  and  pain,  283 ; 
varieties  of,  288 ;  association  of, 
291 ;  habits  of,  292 ;  children's, 
295  ;  education  of,  297  ;  repression 
of,  298  ;  stimulation  of,  299 ;  rela- 
tion of,  to  wiUing,  357,  379  ;  con- 
trol of,  by  will,  384,  387. 

Fictions,  child's  love  of,  182,  184 ; 
educational  use  of,  191. 

Fitch,  J.  G.,  on  effect  of  contrast  in 
fixing  impression,  145. 

Form,  tactile  perception  of,  iii ;  vis- 
ual perception  of,  113  ;  training  of 
sense  of,  125, 

Free-will,  development  of,  400. 

Froebel.     (See  Kindergarten.) 

Function,  intellectual,  38. 

Galton,  Francis,  on  nature  and  nur- 
ture, 61 ;  on  tendency  to  concrete, 
222  ;  on  testing  color-sense,  411  ;  on 
testing  power  of  hearing,  412  ;  on 
visualizing  capacity,  413. 

Games,  as  exercising  invention,  196. 

General,  knowledge  of,  199. 

General  notion.     (See  Concept.) 

Generalization,  an  element  in  con- 
ception, 205  ;  relation  of,  to  induc- 
tion, 253,  257. 

Genius,  relation  of,  to  surroundings, 
62  ;  and  power  of  concentration,  80. 

Geography,  as  exercising,  memory, 
164  ;  imagination,  192  ;  reasoning 
faculty,  274. 

Geometry,  exercise  of  observation  of 
form  by,  127  ;  notions  of,  210 ;  on 
method  of  teaching,  232. 

Growth.    (See  Development.) 

Habit,  relation  of,  to  development, 
50 ;  of  attention,  81 ;  of  observa- 
tion, 129 ;  use  of,  in  memorizing, 
i68  ;  illustrated  in  slovenly  use  of 


INDEX, 


441 


words,  236  ;  of  inquiry,  272  ;  effect 
of,  on  feeling,  286,  293  ;  movement 
governed  by,  369  ;  strength  of,  371  ; 
conditions  of,  371  ;  early  growth  of, 
372  ;  limits  of,  373 ;  operation  of, 
in  moral  action,  387. 

Hardness,  sense  of,  94. 

Hearing,  sense  of,  95 ;  training  of, 
106  ;  measurement  of>  412. 

Heart,  learning  by,  167. 

Heredity,  law  of,  59 ;  illustration  of, 
in  child's  idea  of  cause,.  255  ;  in 
feeling,  290. 

History,  as  exercising  memory,.  164 ; 
as  involving  imagination,  192  ;  as 
developing  the  sympathies,  328. 

Home,  influence  of,  in  promo4:ing  in- 
terest in  study,  163  ;  in  developing 
sympathy,  327  ;  in  educating  moral 
sense,  351 ;  in  developing  will  and 
character,  401. 

Ideal,  feeling  as,  291. 

Image,  images,  definition  of,  132; 
trains  of,  142  ;  how  related  to  con- 
cept, 221. 

Imagination,  a  stage  of  development, 
48  ;  reproductive  and  constructive, 
174  ;  relation  of  conception  to,  221  ; 
measurement  af,.  413.  (See  Con- 
structive Imagination.) 

Imitation,  relation  of  sympathy  to, 
322  ;  nature  of,  364  ;  unconscious 
and  conscious,  365 ;  educatioucd 
value  of,  366 ;  varying  degrees  of, 
367. 

Independence,  of  juc^ment,  249,,  271 ; 
of  feeling,  the  aim  of  the  educator, 
320  ;  of  moral  sentiment,  350 ;  of 
will,  349. 

Individual  differences,  of  brain-pow- 
er, 32  ;  of  mental  capacity,  39 ;  of 
mental  development,  57  ;  of  origi- 
nal capacity,  58  ;  in  respect  of  sur- 
roundings, 6d  ;  of  power  of  atten- 
tion, 82 ;  of  sense-capacity,  loi  ; 
of  observing  power,  123  ;  of  mem- 
ory, 155  ;  of  invagination,  186  ;  of 
power  of  abstraction,  229  ;  of  judg- 
ing and  reasoning,  268 ;  o.f  feeling, 
283,  287,  290 ;  of  love  of  approba- 
tion, 320 ;  of  moral  feeHng,  347  ; 
of  imitativeness,  367  ;  in  acquiring 
command  of  bodily  organs,  368 ; 
measurement  of,  410. 

Induction,  form  of  reasoning,  252 ; 
nature  of,  252  ;  spvontaneous,  253  ; 
regulated,  254  ;  and  causation,  254  ; 
beginnings  of,  266 ;  training  of 
child  in,  274. 


Infancy,  aperiodof  development,  406. 

Inference  and  reasoning,  249. 

Inhibition  of  movement,  364,  380,  384. 

Instinctive,  element  in  feeling,  290  ; 
factor  in  volition,  360  ;  movement, 
362, 

Instruction,  relation  of,  to  education, 
6  ;  method  of,  275  ;  moral,  353. 

Intellect.     (See  Knowing.) 

Intellectual  sentiment,  nature  of,  329  ; 
relation  of  wonder  to,  330 ;  as  pleas- 
ure of  gaining  knowledge,  330; 
as  consciousness  of  power,  331 ; 
growth  of,  332 ;  educational  con- 
trol of,  334. 

Interest,  nature  of,  72 ;  familiarity 
and,  73 ;  effect  of,  on  retention, 
134,  163  ;  on  development  of  spe- 
cial, 333. 

Introspection,  a  means  of  studying 
mind,  15. 

Intuitive  and  symbolic  knowledge, 
211. 

Invention,  a  form  of  construction, 
178  ;.  exercise  of,  195^ 

Judging— Judgment,  nature  of,  239  ; 
relation  of  concept  to,  241 ;  process 
of,  242 ;  affirmative  and  negative, 
244  ;  extent  of,  245  ;  perfection  of, 
246  ;  relation  of,  to  reasoning,  251 ; 
development  of,  263  ;  training  of, 
270 ;  aesthetic,  336 ;  moral,  346, 
381. 

Juxtaposition,  aid  to  discrimination, 
104  ;  aid  to  comparison,  203, 

Kant,  I,,  on  value  of  memory,  172. 

Kindergarten,  training  of  sense  of 
touch  by,  106 ;  of  observing  pow- 
ers by,  125  ;,  of  manual  construc- 
tiveness  by,  197  ;  of  will  by,  374. 

Knowing  —  Intellectual  operations, 
place  of,  in  mind,  35  ;  analysis  of, 
38  ;  stages  of  development  of,  47  ; 
control  of,  by  will,  66,  385 ;  rela- 
tion of  senses  to,  102 ;  relation  of 
memory  to,  171  ;  relation  of  imagi- 
nation to,  176,  182  ;  connection  of, 
with  feeling,  280  ;  and  with  willing, 
356,  378. 

Knowledge,  empirical  aiKi  scientific, 
2  ;  of  concrete  and  abstract,  199  ; 
intuitive  and  symbolic,  211  ;  love 
of,  330.  (See  Intellectual  Sen- 
timent.) 

Lake,  C.  H.,  on  measuring  power  of 
observation,  413  ;  and  power  of  as- 
similation, 414. 


442 


INDEX, 


Language,  dangers  connected  with 
use  of,  218.     (See  Words.) 

Laws,  of  mind,  40 ;  of  development, 
49  ;  ol  attention,  69 ;  of  associa- 
tion 138 ;  of  pleasure  and  pain, 
283. 

Learning  by  heart,  165 ;  as  involving 
imagination,  176.  (See  Acquisi- 
tion.) 

Leibnitz,  G.  W.,  on  intuitive  and 
symbolic  knowledge,  211. 

Liberty,  relation  of,  to  consciousness 
of  power,  313. 

Literature,  as  exercising  memory, 
171 ;  as  means  of  training  the 
imagination,  191 ;  as  developing 
sympathetic  insight,  328. 

Local  discrimination,  in  sense  of 
touch,  90 ;  in  sense  of  sight,  98. 

Localizing  sensations,  117. 

Locke,  John,  his  conception  of  child 
at  birth,  61 ;  on  differences  of 
memory,  157  ;  on  busness  of  edu- 
cation, 160 ;  on  learning  by  heart, 
166 ;  on  readiness  in  repixjduction, 
170  ;  on  satisfying  child's  inquisi- 
tiveness,  272 ;  on  keeping  delicate 
feelings  alive,  301  ;  on  childish  af- 
fectation, 301 ;  on  child's  fear  of 
dark,  304  ;  oh  evil  of  many  rules, 

395- 
Logic,  bearing  of,  on  education,  9, 

270,  274. 
Logical,    reasoning,   230 ;   order  of 

subjects,  277. 
Love,  a  social  feeling,  32L 

Magnitude,  tactile  sense  of,  91 ;  vis- 
ual perception  of,  115,  note;  ab- 
stract ideas  of,  209. 

Mathematics,  kieas  df ,  209 ;  disciplin- 
ary value  of,  275. 

Means  and  ends,  359,  378- 

Meaisurement  of  faculty,  409, 

Memory,  representation  and,  133; 
degrees  of,  i.so ;  beginnings  of, 
151;  gradual  development  of ,  152; 
varieties  of,  155  ;  general  and  spe- 
cial, 156;  natural  limitations  of, 
157  ;  how  far  improvable  by  exer- 
cise, 158 ;  training  of,  159 ;  excel- 
lences of,  i6i;  educational  value 
of,  171. 

Mental  operations,  34. 

Methcxi,  of  psychology,  15  ;  in  teach- 
ing, 275. 

Mind,  scientific  conception  of,  13; 
and  body,  14,  21  ;  division  of,  35 ; 
unity  of,  36,  37 ;  development  of, 
45- 


Mnemonics,  art  of,  167. 
Monotony,  nature  of,  285. 
Moral  habits,  388. 
Moral  ideas,  211. 

Moral  sentiment — Conscience,  nature 
of,  345  ;  connection  of  feeling  and 
judgment  in,   346;    standard    of, 
347  ;  growth  of,  347  ;  highest  form 
of,   350 ;  the  training  of,  351 ;  ef- 
fects of  discipline  on,  352  ;  action 
of  personality  of  teacher  on,  352  ; 
bearing  of  moral   instruction  on, 
353 ;  influence  of  companions  on, 
354^ 
Motlier.     (See  Parent.) 
I  Motive,  element  of  volition,  357, 
j  Movement,    sensations    of,    93,    98; 
j      early  forms  of,  361.     (See  VoLUN- 
I      TARY  Movement.) 

Muscular  sense,  93. 
I  Music,  sensations  of,  96. 

I  Names — Naming,  use  of,  in  observa- 
tion, 128;  co-operation  of,  in  re- 
I  tention  of  impressions,  140 ;  rela- 
j  tion  of,  to  conception,  205 ;  deno- 
!  tation  and  connotation  of,  206 ; 
I  connecting,  with  things,  235.  (See 
I  Words,  ) 
Native  capacity,  nature  of  child,  58, 

6r. 
Nature,  development  of  love  of,  106, 

341. 
Necker  de  Saussure,  Madame,  on 
children's  imagination,  182 ;  on 
making  child  feel  need  of  words, 
236 ;  on  stimulating  child  to  think, 
273  ;  on  prohibitions,  394. 
N-egation,  a  form  of  judgment,  244 ; 

beginnings  of,  264. 
Nervous    system,  structure  of,   22; 

action  of,  23,  26. 
Notion,  general.     (See  Concept.) 
Novelty,  effect  of,  on  attention,  72 ; 

uses  of,  83,  287. 
Number,  ideas  of,  as  involving  sjm- 
thesis,  209  ;   early  ideas  of,  227 ; 
expounding  ideas  of,  233. 

Obedience,  nature  of,  391 ;  a  means, 

not  end,  394. 
Object,   tactile    perception  of,    112; 

visual  perception  of,  116;  exercise 

in  classing,  231. 
Object-lesson,  nature  and  aims  of, 

127. 
Obligation,    consciousness   of,    345, 

34S. 
Observation — Observing  faculty,  na- 
ture of,  119;  good  and  bad,  1x9; 


INDEX. 


443 


development  of,  121 ;  training  of, 
124 ;  measurement  of,  412. 

Obstinacy,  of  judgment,  249  ;  of  will, 
382. 

Obstructive  association,  147, 

Order,  of  faculties,  47 ;  of  subjects, 
277  ;  of  emotions,  293. 

Organs,  of  mind,  25 ;  connection  of, 
29  ;  need  of  exercise  by,  31  ;  stimu- 
lation of,  and  pleasure,  283. 

Organic,  sensations,  170;  sense-feel- 
ings, 288. 

Over-stimulation  of  the  brain,  30, 
284. 

Parent,  as  part  of  social  environ- 
ment, 56,  60 ;  training  of  attention 
by,  82  ;  training  of  senses  by,  103  ; 
training  of  observing  powers  by, 
124;  training  of  memory  by,  170; 
training  of  imagination  by,  18S  ; 
relation  of,  to  childish  curiosity, 
272  ;  control  of  child's  emotional 
nature  by,  297,  305,  309 ;  child's 
love  of,  321 ;  influence  of  intellect- 
ual tastes  of,  on  child,  333 ;  influ- 
ence of,  on  aesthetic  preferences, 
340,  34.2  ;  action  of  authority  of,  in 
developing  moral  sense,  348,  3S1 ; 
function  of,  in  developing  bodily 
powers,  374  ;  tendency  of,  to  over- 
control,  400. 

Passion,  effects  of,  280 ;  angry,  307  ; 
educational  control  of,  309. 

Percept,  nature  of,  108  ;  how  reached, 
108,  109. 

Perception,  stage  of  development, 
47,  48  ;  definition  of,  108 ;  special 
channels  of,  109 ;  by  touch,  iii ; 
by  sight,  113  ;  early  stages  of,  121 ; 
training  of  power  of,  124. 

Perez,  B.,  on  germ  of  voluntary  at- 
tention, 77  ;  on  early  discrimina- 
tion of  solidity,  122  ;  on  first  men- 
tal images,  152  ;  on  children's  im- 
agination, 182  ;  on  child's  neglect 
of  differences,  225  ;  on  early  ideas 
of  number,  228  ;  on  limits  of  early 
abstraction,  228  ;  on  child's  idea  of 
disappearance,  263;  on  exercising 
child  in  self-control,  385. 

Periods  of  development,  405. 

Perseverance,  a  manifestation  of  will, 
381. 

Pestalozzi,  J.  H. — ^his  conception  of 
teacher's  function,  62. 

Pfisterer,  G.  F.,  on  periods  of  devel- 
opment, 406. 

Physiology,  bearing  of,  on  educa- 
tion, 8. 

20 


Pitdi,  sensations  of,  g6. 

Play  as  exercise,  of  imagination,i83  ; 
of  practical  contrivance,  196;  of 
will  and  active  organs,  374. 

Pleasm-e  and  pain,  relation  of  activ- 
ity to,  283 ;  effects  of,  284 ;  de- 
pendent on  change,  285  ;  subject 
to  accommodation,  286. 

Pope,  A.,  on  learning  words,  166; 
on  memory  and  understanding, 
172 ;  on  differences  of  judgment, 
268. 

Power,  love  of,  nature  of,  311 ;  con- 
nection with  progress,  312 ;  as  sense 
of  superiority,  312 ;  educational 
use  and  control  of,  313. 

Praise,  love  of,  318  ;  as  form  of  re- 
ward, 399. 

Predicate  of  proposition  —  Predica- 
tion, 239. 

Presentative,  as  stage  of  develop- 
ment, 46. 

Preyer,  W.,  on  child's  power  of  at- 
tention, 77  ;  on  order  of  learning 
colors,  loi  ;  on  early  perception  of 
distance,  121  ;  on  child's  idea  of 
self,  211;  on  early  abstraction, 
227  ;  on  early  imitation,  365. 

Pride,  distinguished  from  vanity,  321. 

Prohibitions,  compared  with  positive 
commands,  394. 

Proposition,  nature  of,  239 ;  logical 
distinctions  of,  244. 

Psychological  order  of  subjects,  278. 

Psychology,  bearing  of,  on  educa- 
tion, 8,  9 ;  scope  of,  13  ;  method 
of,  15. 

Public  opinion,  moral  value  of,  355, 
402. 

Punishment,  involved  in  authority, 
391 ;  definition  of,  395 ;  ends  of, 
396  ;  evils  of,  396  ;  limits  of,  396 ; 
proportioning  of,  397. 

Purpose,  element  of  voluntary  action, 
356. 

Quality,  a  distinction  of  sensation,  88. 

Questions,  use  of,  in  exercising  re- 
productive faculty,  244 ;  as  propos- 
ing an  alternative,  264  ;  children's, 
2^67,  272  ;  use  of,  in  exercising 
child's  reasoning  faculty,  273. 

Quick,  Rev.  H.,  on  a  good  memory, 
162. 

Random  movements,  362. 
Rashness,  of  judgment,  248  ;  of  in- 
duction, 253. 
Reaction  to  stimulus,  33. 
Reasoning,  nature  of,  250 ;  relation 


444 


INDEX. 


of  judg:ing  to,  251 ;  inductive  ai3d 
deductive,  252  ;  from  analogy,  262  ; 
development  of,  266  ;  training  of 
faculty  of,  272. 

Recognition  of  objects,  117. 

Recollection  and  active  reproduction, 
147. 

Reflection,  as  self -consciousness,  211 ; 
an  element  in  judging,  242 ;  in 
moral  sentiment,  351 ;  a  charac- 
teristic of  higher  action,  378,  380. 

Reflex  attention,  71, 

Reflex  movement,  362. 

Repetition,  a  condition  of  retention, 
136 ;  use  of,  by  educator,  163, 

Representation,  as  stage  of  develop- 
ment, 46  ;  relation  of  reproduction 
to,  132 ;  conceptual,  200 ;  involved 
in  growth  of  feeling,  208 ;  and  in 
growth  of  will,  378. 

Repression  of  feeling,  298. 

Reproduction,  retention  and,  131 ; 
and  representation,  132  ;  conditions 
*5f )  ^Z2>  \  controlled  by  will,  147  ; 
exercising  child  in,  169;  relation 
of,  to  construction,  175. 

Resistance,  sensations  of,  94, 

Resolution,  nature  of,  381. 

Respect,  feeling  of,  321, 

Restraint.    (See  Control.) 

Retaliation.     (See  Anger.) 

Retention,  a  fundamental  property 
of  mind,  50;  relation  of,  to  pro- 
duction, 131 ;  attention  and,  134  ; 
repetition  and,  135  ;  measurement 
of,  413- 

Rewards,  nature  of,  398 ;  how  far 
good,  399 ;  effect  of,  in  school, 
400. 

Richter,  Jean  Paul,  on  learning  by 
rote,  167 ;  on  best  toy,  196 ;  on 
difficulty  in  entering  into  others' 
pleasures,  323. 

Rivalry,  feeling  of,  315,  380 ;  forms 
of,  316;  anti-social  tendency  of, 
317  ;  educational  treatment  of,  317. 

Rote,  learning  by,  166. 

Roughness  and  smoothness,  sense  of, 
91. 

Rousseau,  on  beating  a  child  for  cry- 
ing, 309 ;  on  best  way  of  appor- 
tioning praise,  317. 

School,  province  of,  in  training  ob- 
serving powers,  129 ;  in  training 
memory,  170 ;  imagination,  193  ; 
abstraction,  231 ;  reasoning  pow- 
ers, 274 ;  relation  of,  to  happiness 
of  child,  284  ;  promotion  of  rivalry 
by,  317  ;  influence  of,  in  correcting  J 


conceit,  320  ;  moral  discipline  of, 
401. 

Science,  relation  of,  to  art,  i ;  study 
of,  as  exercising  observing  powers, 
129 ;   memory,    171 ;   imagination, 

'  178  ;  orderly  classification  of  things, 
215  ;  reasoning  powers,  275. 

Self — Self-consciousness,  crude  germ 
of,  118  ;  abstract  idea  of,  211. 

Self-control,  nature  of,  383 ;  stages 
of,  :^2, ;  connection  between  differ- 
ent forms  of,  386. 

Self-esteem,  relation  of  love  of  ap- 
probation to,  318,  320. 

Self-preservation,    instinct    of,    294, 

305,  307- 

Sensation,  first  stage  of  development, 
48,  86  ;  definition  of,  86 ;  intensity 
of,  88 ;  quality  of,  88  ;  of  taste  and 
smell,  89  ;  of  touch,  89 ;  of  mus- 
cular sense,  93  ;  of  hearing,  95  ;  of 
sight,  97 ;  attention  to,  99 ;  dis- 
crimination of,  99 ;  and  percep- 
tion, 108. 

Sense — Senses,  source  of  knov/ledge, 
^ ;  general  and  special,  87  ;  the 
five,  89 ;  the  muscular,  93 ;  de- 
velopment of  capacity  of,  100 ; 
training  of,  102 ;  measurement  of 
capacity  of,  411. 

Sense-feelings,  288, 

Seiisibility,  absolute  and  discrimina- 
tive, 100, 

Sentiments,  abstract,  294. 

Sex,  influence  of,  on  mental  capacity, 
409. 

Sight,  sense  of,  97  ;  training  of,  107 ; 
as  channel  of  perception,  no ;  per- 
ceptions of,  113. 

Sikorski,  Dr.,  on  habituating  chil- 
dren to  endurance,  387. 

Similarity,  as  bond  of  association, 
144.     (See  Assimilation.) 

Smell,  sense  of,  89 ;  training  of,  105. 

Social  environment,  definition  of, 
55  ;  undesigned  and  designed  in- 
fluence of,  56 ;  relation  of  teacher 
to,  62. 

Social  feelings,  294,  321. 

Solidity  of  form,  how  known,  115. 

Sounds,  musical  and  non-musical, 
96 ;  articulate,  96. 

Space,  perception  of,  in. 

Standard,  of  beautiful,  337,  340 ;  of 
right  and  wrong,  347. 

Stev/art,  D.,  on  tests  of  a  good  mem- 
ory, 161 ;  on  value  of  memory,  172. 

Stimulation,  excessive,  30,  283  ;  sen- 
sory, 86  ;  a  cause  of  pleasure,  283  . 
craving  for,  283 ;  of  feelings,  299. ' 


INDEX. 


445 


Stimulus,  mental,  33,  70 ;  sensory,  88. 

Subjects  of  study,  as  exercising  ob- 
serving powers,  129 ;  memory, 
170;  imagination,  193;  abstrac- 
tion, 237;  reaisoning  faculty,  274; 
order  of  taking  up,  237,  277. 

Suggestion,  and  association,  137  ; 
strength  of,  140. 

Syllogism,  form  of  deductive  argu- 
ment, 259. 

Sympathy,  nature  of,  322 ;  earlier 
and  later  forms  of,  323  ;  effects  of, 
323 ;  conditions  of,  324 ;  growth 
of,  324 ;  educational  uses  of,  325  ; 
as  between  teacher  and  pupil,  325  ; 
as  between  pupils,  327;  the  edu- 
cation of,  327  ;  an  element  in  moral 
sentiment,  348,  349 ;  relation  of,  to 
imitation,  366. 

Synthesis,  element  in  knowing,  39 ; 
involved  in  formation  of  concepts, 
209 ;  a  distinction  of  method,  277. 

Tactile  perception.     (See  Touch.) 

Taste,  aesthetic  faculty  of,  336.  (See 
-Esthetic  Sentiment.) 

Taste,  sense  of,  89  ;  training  of,  105. 

Teacher,  uses  of  mental  science  to, 
II ;  place  of,  in  environment,  62 ; 
relation  of,  to  feelings,  297 ;  sym- 
pathy of,  325  ;  influence  of  person- 
ality of,  352. 

Temperament,  emotional,  282  ;  act- 
ive, 359. 

Temperature,  sense  of,  91. 

Term.     (See  Name.) 

Thinking — Thought,  stage  of  devel- 
opment, 48  ;  nature  of,  199  ;  stages 
of,  200, 

Threshold,  idea  of,  as  aid  to  meas- 
urement of  faculty,  411. 

Thring,  Rev.  E.,  on  monotony,  287. 

Touch,  sense  of,  89 ;  active  side  of, 
92 ;  training  of,  105 ;  as  channel 
of  perception,  no ;  perceptions  of, 
III. 

Toys,  uses  of,  124,  196. 

Tradition,  as  source  of  judgment, 
242. 

Training  of  faculties,  63;  of  atten- 
tion, 82  ;  of  the  senses,  102 ;  of 
observing  powers,  124;  of  mem- 
ory, 159 ;  of  imagination,  187 ;  of 
power  of  abstraction,  230  ;  of  judg- 
ment, 270 ;  of  feeling,  297 ;  of  sym- 
pathy, 327  ;  of  feeling  of  curiosity, 
334 ;  of  aesthetic  faculty,  339 ;  of 


moral  sentiment,  351  ;  of  the  will 
by  the  exercise  of  the  active  or- 
gans, 373 ;  of  the  will  by  moral 
discipline,  390. 
Twain,  Mark,  illustration  of  boy's 
enjoyment  of  privilege  by,  314. 

Understanding,  relation  of  memory 
to,  172 ;  of  imagination  to,  177 ; 
relation  of,  to  thought,  199. 

Vanity,  distinguished  from  pride,  321. 

Variety,  need  of,  in  school-work,  32  ; 
as  principle  of  pleasure,  286,  287. 

Verbal  associations,  143,  146 ;  mem- 
ory, 190,  202. 

Virtue,  feeling  excited  by,  346. 

Vision,  visual  perception.  (See 
Sight.) 

Visualization,  413. 

Volkmann,  Dr.  W.,  on  exciting  in- 
terest, 84. 

Voluntary  attention,  70,  74,  386. 

Voluntary  movement,  first  develop- 
ment of,  363  ;  relation  of  imitative 
movement  to,  365  ;  controlled  by 
word  of  command,  367  ;  internally 
controlled,  368 ;  governed  by  habit, 
370 ;  fixity  and  plasticity  of,  372  ; 
training  of  the  will  in,  373. 

Waitz,  Th.,  on  difficulties  of  abstrac- 
tion, 220,  233 ;  on  educator's  rela- 
tion to  the  feelings,  299 ;  on  re- 
wards, 399. 

Weight,  sense  of,  90,  94. 

Will,  willing,  place  of,  in  mind,  35, 
356  ;  function  of,  in  attention,  74  ; 
control  of  reproduction  by,  148; 
definition  of,  356 ;  basis  of,  357 ; 
relation  of  desire  to,  359 ;  develop- 
ment of,  359,  378 ;  manifestation 
of,  in  movement,  361,  369;  exer- 
cise of,  in  bodily  movement,  373 ; 
training  of,  in  moral  action,  391. 

Wonder,  connection  of,  with  love  of 
knowledge,  329. 

Words,  on  co-operation  of,  in  re- 
membering, 143  ;  use  and  abuse  of, 
in  learning,  -i^s.;  realizing  mean- 
ing of,  176;  selection  of,  by  teach- 
er, 193 ;  discovering  meaning  of, 
2c6 ;  ambiguities  of,  218,  261  ;  ex- 
plaining meaning  of,  235 ;  con- 
trolling child's  use  of,  236. 

Youth,  a  period  of  development,  407. 


VV 


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